


Sleeping Among the Dead

by Ithiel_Dragon



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-12
Updated: 2012-07-19
Packaged: 2018-10-06 01:49:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 34,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10322774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ithiel_Dragon/pseuds/Ithiel_Dragon
Summary: Sam and Dean wake up in a ruined Detroit, empty of all humans. The last thing they remember, when they were forced to say 'yes' to becoming the vessels of Lucifer and Michael.  Apparently the war between Heaven and Hell is over and somehow they are still alive.  They learn quickly, however, just because there are no other humans, doesn't mean they're alone.This work is incomplete and abandoned, it will never be completed.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Story uploaded by Ithiel Dragon. This was a roleplay story I was involved in several years ago on a forum called Devil's Gate. Ithiel Dragon played Dean Winchester, and some other characters. Caz2y5 played Sam Winchester, and some other characters. I am posting this story in its entirety and unedited. The page breaks are where the author changed. Maybe one day I will go back and edit it into a more proper story format, but don't hold your breath. I'm mostly posting this story here so I don't lose it. I still think its a pretty good read the way it is, but it is still obviously a roleplay. You've been warned.

Yes…  


  
It was the last thing he remembered. The last thing he heard… well… other than his brother's screaming. It was the last word he uttered, hoarse and barely above a whisper after hours, maybe days, of his own screams. After that there had been nothing but darkness. Blissful, numb, darkness. No light. No sound. No thought. Just a numb never ending blackness.

Dean wished he was still there.

At first it felt like having your arm fall asleep after laying on it wrong and cutting off the circulation for too long. Pins and needles and numb at the same time. But it wasn't just his arm, it was his whole body that felt that way. As though it didn't remember how to feel anymore. The tingling quickly faded however, the numbness replaced with an ache that only seemed to grow in intensity the longer he laid there.

Pain… that his body remembered well.

He'd endured thirty years of unimaginable agony trapped in hell. Indescribable torture. The kind that killed the soul and drove a man insane. It had broken him. Broken him in a way that could never be fixed. Then he'd spent ten years learning how to inflict that kind of pain onto others. Alistair's favorite pupil. After that, Dean thought he had a good idea what pain was. He'd been wrong.

Demons were good at the whole torture thing, no doubt about it. But they didn't hold a candle to angels. What was it Anna had said? All the torture, twice the righteousness? She sure as hell wasn't kidding. It was clear that when Zachariah had given them stomach cancer with just a thought he'd just been warming up. Dean didn't even remember how long it had lasted, only that it had felt far longer than the forty years he'd spent in hell.

Slowly Dean opened his eyes. For a moment he could almost pretend he was still back in that dark place where nothing existed. But as his vision cleared shapes began to swim into focus through the darkness. A twisted husk of a car trapped under huge slabs of concrete. A streetlight lying flat in the middle of the road, electrical wires spilled everywhere like the guts of a slain beast. Buildings' unrecognizable, missing whole walls or sometimes collapsed entirely in nothing more than a pile of rubble of bricks and twisted beams.

Dean coughed, his lungs straining from the smoke and dust thick in the air. He barely managed to roll over onto his back. Every muscle in his body screaming in protest with the movement, his head feeling like it was about to split in two, and his stomach threatening to lose whatever lunch was in there even though he was pretty sure he hadn't eaten in a while. Looking up all he could see was the full moon, huge and blood red through the smoke and broken buildings above him, everything else was black.

He shouldn't be here. Dean knew that much. He'd said 'yes'. He knew what that meant. Michael… the archangel… he had become his vessel. The 'Michael Sword'. He should be dead now, or at the very least a drooling vegetable pissing in his own pants. But he was alive. He felt like he was suffering from the worst god damned hangover of his life, but he was alive. He was pretty god damned sure he wasn't in heaven, and equally certain he wasn't in hell.

Where the hell was he?

* * *

Sam opened his eyes and stared up at the sky.

An endless expanse of starless black, framed with the long grass that grew up like a curtain around him. Sam frowned. There was something off about the sky. He couldn’t see the whole thing, the curtain of grass blocking his view in all directions other than straight up. But there was certainly something wrong.

Sam wasn’t a hundred per cent certain that the wrong feeling that weighed down his chest was just because he couldn’t see any stars.

It hurt to breathe, everything hurt. Sam tried to shift and pain flared through him making his face scrunch up with the intensity of it. A few quick sharp gasps of air were the only time he allowed himself though. Sam grit his teeth and pushed himself up off the ground to a sitting position.

When the world stopped feeling like it had shifted sideways Sam lifted his head and pushed himself up onto his feet.

The sea of grass that surrounded him appeared to be an old baseball field in a stadium. Abandoned long enough for the grass to grow up to Sam’s waist on the pitch. It struck Sam as odd that the only place the grass was bent down was where he had been lying.

That’s when the memory struck him. He had said Yes.

Sam felt sick. A feeling of dread crawling its way through his intestines and he wrapped his arms around his stomach as he lurched forward through the grass. He had to find out where he was. Had to know what had happened. How much time had passed since he had let Lucifer in.

Most importantly he had to find Dean.

Sam struggled through the rubble of the grandstand and made his way out onto the street. His stomach lurching again at the sight he saw. Whatever city this was it was in ruin. Burnt out husks of Cars and fallen power lines littered the street he stood in. All the buildings crumbling or burnt out shells.

It was all his fault. Because he had said yes to stop Lucifer and he had failed to do it. Sam took a step forward and something metal clanged under his foot. He tore his eyes away from the devastation before him and glanced down. A metal sign lay twisted by his feet. The writing blasted and some of the letter’s missing.

Sam had to bend down to make it out but when he did the churning in his gut lurched into retching.

Before it was destroyed the sign had read “welcome to the home of the Detroit Tigers!”

* * *

Dean wasn’t sure how long he lay there, staring up at the pitch-black sky and blood red moon. Maybe he hoped if he laid there long enough the answers to all his burning questions would come floating down from heaven, or some shit like that. The sky gave him no answers however and eventually Dean motivated himself enough to move once gain. It hurt just as much as before and his headache seemed to triple in intensity when he got his arms underneath him and finally managed to push himself up from the broken cement.

Getting to his feet was worse. His vision darkened and blurred, dizziness threatening to send him right back to the ground. But somehow he managed to remain standing with the help of a broken lamp pole, and not puke all over himself. Once he was more or less steady he allowed himself to open his eyes and look down at himself.

He was practically naked from the waist up. His shirt bloody and in tatters. His jeans not much better actually, but more or less intact for modesty’s sake. The weird thing was however that beneath the torn fabric his skin looked completely unmarked. Not a bruise or scratch on him, even though he certainly felt like hammered shit.

Shaking his head and wiping the grit out of his eyes Dean pushed himself away from the lamppost and started walking. He had no idea where the fuck he was but by the looks of this place he didn’t want to be here. The smell of smoke was heavy in the air even though he didn’t see any fires burning and… it smelled like death.

He’d spent enough time in cemeteries and digging up bodies to know what decaying corpses smelled like. Dean might not be able to see them but they were there. He needed to try to find someplace safe. Someplace not in the open like this. Someplace he could think and try to piece his fragmented memories back together and maybe even answer some questions.

Where was he? Why was he alive? What the hell had happened here? Was… this because of Michael and Lucifer? He had said yes… had Sam said yes too? Dean swallowed hard, remembering his brother’s screams like it was yesterday. He had to find out what had happened to Sam.

But what if Sam had said yes? What if Dean was here now because… Lucifer had kicked Michael’s ass… What if his brother was still…

Dean’s thoughts were abruptly cut off when he heard a sound in the darkness. He stopped cold. His eyes scanning the empty street painfully aware of how vulnerable he was right now, no weapons, not even a fucking knife. Maybe it was just some rubble shifting, or the wind blowing around some loose trash.

Yeah… right… when was it ever? 

* * *

It felt like it forever for Sam’s stomach to stop trying to empty itself even though it had done so hours ago. While he was down on his hands and knees contemplating god and the universe Sam had closed his eyes and fought against the rising panic that seemed to fill the empty void in his stomach.

Slowly Sam wiped the back of his hand across his chin and spat to try and get the last of the taste out of his mouth.

There were two things going through his mind more urgent than all the other concerns that were screaming at him from deep inside his head. What happened? and where is Dean? It was like a mantra in his head that he kept repeating as he tried to struggle back to his feet.

_Dean, Dean, Dean, Dean,_ it helped drown out the memory of Dean screaming. He couldn’t afford to think about the last time he saw his brother. There were other things that seemed like a priority now. Things like finding shelter.

It was bitterly cold and What was left of Sam’s clothing did little to protect him from the elements. Sam was only wearing one shoe. It made walking slow but not any slower than the fact he felt like shit.

Sam was tempted to call out. To scream hello or help or just yell for Dean but his hunter training told him that was a bad idea. The stench of decay hung heavily in the air and god only knew what was out there. Lucking in the dark.

Sam stood there, hunched over and arms still wrapped around his middle. He was fairly certain he looked the epitome of what he felt. He wasn’t sure what in the hell he should do so he fell back on the familiar.

John’s training so ingrained it’s like a second nature. Sam knew where he was and he knew who he was that was the first step. Step to was to take stock of what you have and what you need. Sam really needed a drink. Even just a mouthful of water would do just so that he could wash the taste from his mouth.

There was a cell phone in his back pocket and Sam pulled it out. It certainly wasn’t his but when he opened it the battery was dead. Anger flared in him and he threw it. Lobbing it as far away from himself as he could and listening to it skitter and clatter across the asphalt in the distance. It probably wasn’t the smartest idea.

Sam wrapped his arms around his waist again and continued down the road. He had to find himself a weapon and shelter and food. Then he could find Dean.

* * *

It wasn't exactly breaking and entering, considering the window he crawled through was already broken. It was even darker within than it was out in the street, but at least it wasn't out in the open. For a moment Dean stood still just inside the storefront window he'd crawled through, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the additional gloom, watching for any movements in the shadows.

Once it had been a Salvation Army, or some other thrift store. Dean had certainly seen enough of them throughout his life. It was places like this his father had gotten most of his and Sam's clothes growing up. Where he still did most of his shopping as an adult. Now it was a ruin.

The roof and upper floors had caved in half the structure and the half that remained standing looked precariously close to collapse as well. The place had obviously been looted before. The broken and toppled shelves were almost completely empty. The floor littered with debris that he'd have trouble walking through even in broad daylight. But he hoped there would at least be something he could use left.

It was slow going but he managed to find a pair of jeans that more or less fit him and they were less torn than the once he currently wore. They were a little tight but he'd had worse. Further searching uncovered a couple undershirts, an oversized flannel button down, and a jacket that had seen better days but at least it was warm.

He'd had to search underneath the remains of a broken counter to find a pair of old army boots that surprisingly fit. In one of the drawers at the check out counter he also found some expired Tylenol which he took anyway. Only realizing when he dry swallowed the pills and nearly choked on them how dry his throat really was.

Further back, where it was nearly pitch black, he found the bathroom and wasn't all that surprised when he turned the knobs on the sink and nothing came out. Returning to the main part of the store he was more than a little upset that further searching didn't uncover anything else useful. No food. No water. A few more clothes that might fit him which he shoved in a bag to take with him, but no weapons. Not even a pocket knife. The closest thing he found to a weapon was an old steel bat which he only took because it was better than nothing.

Returning to the broken window he considered whether he should just stay here for the night rather than wandering around outside in the dark. But he didn't like how unstable the building seemed, pieces of the upper floor raining down every time the wind blew. Being crushed to death wasn't on his list of items to do today. So Dean started to climb through the window and froze.

The street outside looked just as empty as before but there was an unmistakable sense of… wrongness in the air. He learned a long time ago never to ignore that feeling. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end and he knew it wasn't just his imagination. He was being watched.

* * *

Sam wasn’t sure how far he stumbled till he found a place that hadn’t been gutted by fire. The side of the building was gone and he could see what looked like office’s on the upper floors. Sam wasn’t all that certain that he would find anything useful in there but at least he could find somewhere out of the wind and come up with a better game plan.

His teeth had started to chatter some time back and he couldn’t hear anything over the sound of it. It took three good kicks to bust the lock on the door. Sam just stood in the open doorway and waited for his eyes to adjust to the gloom while he caught his breath. It was just a sign of how beat he was that he hadn’t been able to break it with one kick.

Deeper into the building he found an employee locker room and beyond that a restroom. None of the taps were working though. Sam started working on opening the lockers. Thankfully he found a few that were not locked. In the first one he found a gym bag with sweaty gym shorts and a can of deodorant in them. Sam frowned and emptied the bag so he could at least use it to carry anything useful he found.

By the time he had searched as many of the lockers that he could, he had a lighter, a pair of coveralls that looked like they would fit him, a t-shirt and an empty sports bottle and the contents of a small first aid kit that was attached to the wall. It was only a few band aids and a bottle of bactine but beggars couldn’t really be choosers.

Sam headed back into the rest room and pulled the lid of one of the cisterns. he used the water from there to clean, wash his face and hands and then pulled the coveralls on over what he was already wearing. It was far too cold to strip off.

At least in out of the wind his teeth had stopped chattering. He continued through the building figuring maybe he could find something else. He made his way through some offices, the tiny little cubicles that reminded him of the time Zachariah had whammied him and Dean and he had been Sam Wesson. At least the few paper clips he found would come in handy.

He found a stairwell but it was full of rubble from the upper floors which meant that the building wasn’t as solid as he had thought it would be. It was as he was making his way back out of the building that he came around a different corner and found he had hit pay dirt. Two vending machines stood untouched and full of food and a reasonably full water cooler stood next to them.

Sam’s mouth practically watered at the sight, He poured himself a cup of water and drank it slow. Closing his eyes and savoring the feel of the moisture coating his throat and washing away the bitter dry taste he had been stuck with.

Next he worked his way through the vending machines it took a couple of goes but eventually he had filled the gym back with junk food. Sam sat with his back to one of the machines and drank more of the water. He had filled the empty sports bottle at least.

As he sat there listening to the silence it occurred to him that every time the wind blew he could hear the building creak and crack above him. There was still a fair amount of food in the machines and Sam relocked them figuring he could always pick them open if he came back. At least locking them meant that the food might stay in them for someone else like Dean to pick open and get.

Sam was just about to walk back out the door when he heard it. The door was slightly ajar and he knelt down in the shadow of it to listen. He couldn’t make out what the sound was but it was definitely not the wind.

* * *

Dean’s fingers tightened around the handle of the bat, his eyes scanning the darkness and shadows for any sign of movement. What he wouldn’t give for a shotgun, or hell, even a goddamn knife. But, no, he was stuck with this useless piece of metal. Probably too much to hope that whatever was out there just wanted to play a game of catch.

He didn’t see any movement though, not that he could see much given how dark it was. Maybe it was just his imagination after all? Given everything he had been through no one could blame him for being a little jumpy. Or maybe whatever was out there was waiting for him to make the first move.

So he could either go back inside, hold up here, and wait till morning… of course this wasn’t the most defensible position and if something did attack he’d be pretty much trapped, and screwed. Or he could go out there, wander around aimlessly in the dark, and hope nothing pounced on him until he did find someplace to hole up.

Great choices.

Screw this. He wasn’t just going to huddle here like a scared rabbit. Staying here wasn’t an option. He needed to find someplace with food, water, and wasn’t going to fall on him at the slightest breeze. He needed to find out where the fuck he was, what had happened, and why this place looked like a fucking bomb had hit it. He wasn’t going to do any of those things just standing here.

So Dean climbed out the window, hefted the bag over his shoulder, and started walking. He hadn’t taken more than a handful of steps before he saw a shadow move down a nearby alley. He stopped. Whatever was moving didn’t. Behind him a loud crash made him jump, much to his shame, and turn quickly. A trashcan rolled out into the street. His knuckles wrapped around the hilt of the bat were white.

It was too dark to make out the details of what finally shambled out of that dark alley behind him. The way it moved though… jerky twisted movements… wasn’t human. That was all Dean needed to know. Shadows moved all around now. More of the things emerging from everywhere it seemed. Like someone had rung the fucking dinner bell.

Dean turned and started to run his earlier weakness and pain forgotten in a burst of adrenaline. The things, whatever they were, were following him. Inhuman screams filling the once silence night making his heart beat triple time. His mind, trying to keep himself from panicking probably, instinctively started trying to classify the creatures. They weren’t zombies. At least, not normal zombies. They had similar, jerky, stiff, movements but normal zombies weren’t this fast. When he dived over the hood of an abandoned husk of a car or dodged around fallen debris from buildings they were still right behind him. He wasn’t going to be able to outrun them.

Apparently he was running out of road too.

A toppled tractor-trailer and half of a crumbled building blocked the road completely. There was no way around, so his only option was to go over. Dropping the bag he was carrying, knowing it would only slow him down, he quickly climbed onto a crashed SUV and jumped, barely catching the edge of the top of the tractor-trailer. He tossed the bat on top of the truck and started to pull himself up when he felt something grabbing at his legs and he almost lost his hold. Kicking frantically at the thing before it got a good hold on him it let go and he managed to haul himself up over the top of the tractor trailer.

Panting heavily he looked down, getting his first good look at the creatures now frantically clawing at the edge of the trailer, trying to reach him. If they were once human they didn’t look much like them any longer. Red bloody eyes held no emotion other than rage and hunger. They smelled, and looked, a lot like rotted corpses. Like zombies, if not for the razor sharp teeth and wicked looking claws that were starting to tear rents out of the side of the truck.

“Fuck.” Dean muttered under his breath, picking up the bat that felt more useless than ever now. He wasn’t going to be safe up here for much longer and there was nowhere to go. 

* * *

At the sound of the shriek Sam’s first thought was to just shut the door and hope the thing didn’t see him. IT had a human shape but that was nothing unusual. Most creatures they hunted seemed human until you got a good look at their fangs.

The one in the alley way leaned forward out of the shadows and sniffed the air. Its sharp teeth glinting in the beam of moonlight it had stepped into. Another shriek sounded in the distance and the thing was off running in the direction of the sound. Sam turned and put his back to the wall. Just his luck that there were things out there that weren’t human.

Sam figured he could just close the door. The building wasn’t really that safe but it was more cover than being out in the open with whatever that thing was roaming around. But then his mind hit on the fact that the thing had sniffed the air like it was hunting something. That it had run in the same direction when that cry went up. IF the thing was not alone and hunting in a pack then that would mean that the cry was probably an indication that the others had found something worth hunting.

What if that something was Dean. What if those things were hunting someone who didn’t know how to defend themselves in a situation like this. Sam sighed and slowly pulled the door open listening and making sure the alleyway was empty before he stuck his head out. He could hear scrabbling in the distance the sound of metal screeching like someone raking a key across paint work.

Sam made his way quietly to the end of the alley crouching down again and looking out into the street. There was a horde of those things at least twenty maybe more and they were chasing someone. From this vantage point Sam couldn’t make out who it was just someone running. Not until they clambered up on top of the overturned tractor trailer. Not until Sam could see the bow legged silhouette of his brother.

The things clawed and clambered at the trailer trying to reach Dean and Sam had to get there. Had to help somehow.

Sam moved sticking to the darkness and behind the burnt out husks of cars as he moved closer. He was down wind but he knew if he made a noise they would hear him even if they couldn’t smell him. He was still about a hundred feet from them when the cover ran out. Other than the buildings and the SUV next to them there was nothing to hide behind other than the beat up sedan he was currently crouched behind.

The boot was open and Sam watched the creatures as he leaned in and pulled out the tire bar. It was better than a bag full of candy as a weapon at least. Not that taking those things on in hand to hand was something that he was considering as a good idea.

The tractor trailer was close enough to the nearby building that if Sam could lower a rope Dean could climb up into the building. But those things could probably get into the building and find them. But it was better than no plan at all. It was also possible to fight those things in a bottle neck of a doorway rather than out in the open.

Sam moved back and started making his way to the alleyway between the two buildings. A plan formulated in his mind. He just hoped he could find something to use as a rope and get up to a high enough window before those things got Dean.

* * *

Dean swung the bat as hard as he could and hit one of the creatures square in the head with the satisfying crunch of bone. Probably dislocated its jaw and caved in half its skull causing it to lose its grip on the side of the trailer. But almost as soon as it fell the fucking thing got right back up and began clawing at the side of the truck once more.

“Fuck!” Dean cursed loudly when the metal beneath his feet shook almost causing him to lose his balance. The things definitely weren’t like normal zombies. They were about as stupid as a zombie but smart enough that when they realized they couldn’t reach him from the ground they’d started climbing over each other.

He knocked another one off, then another that tried to crawl up from the other side. The bat was bloody with gore but the damned things just kept coming no matter how many times he hit them. If they were like normal zombies then only massive brain damage, like a bullet through the skull, was going to put them down for good. The bat just wasn’t doing enough damage… or the damned things weren’t vulnerable to head trauma.

Either way he was fucked.

The trailer shook again and the sound of twisting metal made his stomach turn. The truck just wasn’t made to put up with this kind of punishment and the fuckers were strong. They were literally ripping it out from underneath him.

If they could tear through metal like it was paper Dean really didn’t want to contemplate what they could do to him. Looked like he was going to find out pretty soon though. 

* * *

The door to the building wasn’t locked. He almost slammed through it and stopped for a moment to shove a photo copier up against it. It wouldn’t hold long but it might buy them some time if the things tried to get inside.

He raced through the floor till he found the stairwell. HE took the stairs two steps at a time as he tried to make it up to a higher floor. The second and third floor doors were locked and by the time he reached the fourth floor Sam’s lungs burned with how fast he had run. He couldn’t rest though.

He stood for a second and looked around trying to figure out how to get to the window above Dean and how he was going to pull him up. A big red sign pointed out the fire hose and that’s when Sam struck on his idea. All he could do was hope that the hose was long enough.

Sam made his way to the front office and sure enough Dean was below him. Sam swore as he could see those things getting closer. Dean swinging away like a batter on the mound but Sam could see the droop to his brothers shoulders. Dean was getting tired Sam had to get him out of there now.

Only problem was there was glass but no window. He couldn’t open it to lower the fire hose. Sam picked up a chair and slammed it against the window every bone in his body jarring at the fact that the chair just bounced off the shatter proof plexi glass.

Sam wished he had a gun or something that he could shoot the glass out with because if he kept up this physical exertion he was going to pop an artery. He put his hands on his knees and tried to figure out what to do his mind racing as each option was weighed and passed over.

Finally after a few desperate second’s Sam came to a decision. He grabbed the tire bar from the back and used it to try and jimmy the glass out of the frame. The plexi glass buckled slightly and Sam thought it might shatter. But then with a loud pop it fell from the building in a complete sheet. Sam tried to grab it as he realized what was happening. The sheet of plexi glass falling in one solid piece straight down toward the tractor trailer.

“Dean!” Sam shouted. Hoping his brother would get out of the way in time.

* * *

Dean wasn’t sure if he was going out of his mind or not when he heard the sound of his brother’s voice from above him. But he was desperate enough to believe that Sam was alive, that his brother was actually there, that he risked looking away from the creatures trying to eat him to look up. He didn’t see his brother. What he saw was a huge piece of glass falling straight towards him from four stories up.

“Mother fuck!” Dean swore as he dove out of the way, the zombie-like creatures momentarily forgotten.

The force of the plate glass shattering against the tractor trailer rocked the entire vehicle, nearly sending him rolling over the edge. Desperately Dean covered his head with his arms, trying to protect his head and face from flying glass. He felt several pieces pierce through his jeans and even the thick jacket he was wearing and he grit his teeth against the pain.

The only upside seemed to be that the flying shrapnel also scattered the zombies, giving him a momentary reprieve. Dean took that moment to look up to where the glass had fallen from, and his breath caught in his throat.

Sam… Both his ears and his eyes couldn’t be playing tricks on him right? Well, if anything the pain from broken glass lodged in his skin was certainly real. Most were just shallow cuts but a particularly long piece of glass was stuck in his calf and not only did it hurt like a bitch but he could feel a rather large amount of blood quickly soaking into his jeans.

A rotted clawed hand grabbing at him over the side of the trailer reminded him he had bigger things to worry about right now. The claws were quickly shredding through the sleeve of his jacket and Dean cursed when the thing almost pulled him over the side. The only way Dean got away was by quickly shrugging out of the coat and scrambling back to his feet.

The pain in his leg nearly sent him back down but he stubbornly remained on his feet. Retrieving his bat once more, thankful it hadn’t been lost in the whole fiasco, Dean knocked another one of the creatures back off the side of the truck.

“Sam!” Dean shouted to his brother, risking a glance up to the window. He really hoped his brother had a plan.

* * *

Sam felt his heart lurch into his throat as the glass sailed down toward his brother. It felt like forever before Dean glanced up. His brothers eyes were so wide and then he was leaping out of the way. The sound of the glass impacting with the truck was so loud. The creatures screeching and some of them even backing away as glass shards rained down around them.

Sam was still gulping down air as he grabbed the fire hose and gave it one last yank to be certain it was secure before he lowered the nozzle out the window. He had It across his back to take the weight as he lowered it toward Dean.

“Dean? Come on man.” Dean wasn’t moving and Sam bit his own bottom lip as he watched hoping that his brother was okay. “Get up!”

Those things were getting closer. Sam was just about to use the fire hose to climb down when Dean moved. Looking up at him before he shrugged off the things that were getting too close.

“Grab on! I’ll pull you up!” Sam yelled over the noise of those things. They didn’t seem to smart but they seemed to know that their dinner was about to escape. Their renewed efforts making the whole truck shake.

Some of them had even broke away and begun trying to climb the walls of the building. They needed to hurry before they figured out how to get inside.

* * *

Dean heard his brother’s shout, saw the fire hose his brother lowered to him, and he immediately ran for it. Well, as much as he _could_ run with a six inch piece of glass stuck in his calf and the metal underneath his feet rocking so much he stumbled every other step. The creatures were quickly climbing up the side of the truck once more now that Dean wasn’t actively knocking them down.

He could only hope that his brother could do what he promised and haul him up before the things reached him. Dean wasn’t sure he had the strength to climb up on his own given the way his leg was messed up.

As much as he hated to do it, Dean dropped the bat as he grabbed for the hose, holding on as tight as he could.

“Got it!” He shouted up at his brother before reluctantly looking over his shoulder. He wished he hadn’t. One of the things had finally managed to climb up onto the trailer and now it was running straight towards him.

Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!

* * *

Sam could only watch as Dean moved along the trailer toward the fire hose. He had tried swinging it out to him but it was hard enough keeping it so that it dangled over the trailer and not out where one of those things could grab it. The last thing they both needed was for one of those things to be able to grab the hose and pull him down or climb up it.

Dean ran along towards it almost falling and Sam all but prayed as he moved. Then Dean was holding onto the end and calling out that he had it. Sam didn't wait to make sure, he could see the things climbing onto the trailer and coming toward his brother.

Sam just turned and ran hard as he could back inside the building. He could feel the tug where the hose crossed his chest and he grunted at how heavy it was but he kept going. He had to get Dean up out of reach of those things. He just hoped that the heavy weight on the other end of the rope was just Dean and not one of those things.

* * *

Dean felt the fire hose lurch in his hands hard and he held onto the thing like his life depended on it. Which it did. Whatever Sam was doing though, it was working, cause he was being pulled up pretty damned fast.

He felt the claws of one of the creatures scraping against his legs as Sam pulled him up but Dean managed to kick it away before it got a good hold on him. The things below shrieked in rage as he was pulled far out of their reach and Dean finally allowed himself a breath of relief.

It wasn’t long before he reached the open window and Dean grabbed at it as soon as he was close enough. Using what little strength he had left to help Sam pull him over the edge to safety. Once he was back on solid ground again, more or less, Dean let go of the fire hose and collapsed onto his back.

His breath came out in harsh pants and his heart was beating so hard and fast in his chest it was all he could hear. He knew he should try to calm down, he was already losing a good deal of blood and his pounding heart was only making things worse. But after nearly getting torn limb from limb by a bunch of crazy zombie creatures who could really blame him for panicking a little? 

* * *

The weight of the hose over his chest shifted and Sam hoped that Dean was still the only one on the other end. It jerked hard and Sam fell hard. He put his feet up against the door frame to stop from slipping back toward the window though. Groaning at the strain of pulling the hose toward himself.

Sam pulled one hand over the other as he pulled Dean up toward the window. By the time Dean’s hands reached out and latched onto the window frame Sam’s entire body was screaming at the strain of having pulled his brothers weight up the four floors to the window.

He wanted to just collapse back and lay there till his heart wasn’t pounding in his ears and his lungs weren’t burning as he panted for air. Dean spread out and just lay on the floor by the window. Something was wrong.

Sam untangled himself from the fire hose and made his way over to where Dean was lying. He hung his head out and looked down at the creatures who were still clambering and trying to get to them. It didn’t look like they were capable of climbing the outside of the building though.

He looked down at his brother and that’s when he saw the glass. _fuck_. Sam grabbed his bag it was sitting by the window and he pulled out the first aid supplies he had found in the other office. He frowned. The cut was deep and it probably needed stitches but all he had was bactine and bandages.

Sam bit his bottom lip again as he jury rigged a tourniquet using the sleeve of his coveralls and the tire bar to twist it tight.

“Oh man, I’m sorry Dean.” Sam sighed. He had to stop the bleeding and he had no idea how he was going to stop it. He just had to hope that none of those things figured out how to get inside.

* * *

Dean had closed his eyes but they flew open again with a grunt of pain when he felt the painful tightening around his leg that was starting to hurt like a bitch now that his adrenaline high was starting to fade. He grit his teeth as Sam tightened the tourniquet even more, hoping that it would be enough to at least slow the bleeding. His blood was probably like chum in the water right now and the damn sharks were already circling.

When Sam suddenly apologized, Dean looked up at the younger man in surprise. Just what the hell did his brother need to apologize for? Sam had seriously saved his ass just now. Oh… the glass… ok that could have gone better. But he’ll take getting his leg cut to having his intestines ripped out and chewed on while he was still alive any day.

“It’s fine. Just a scratch.” He replied, squeezing his eyes shut and clenching his jaw to keep from crying out when Sam finally pulled the glass free. Yeah, that fucking hurt, but he’d had worse. As long as the glass hadn’t severed an artery or something he should be all right. Probably.

“What the hell is going on, Sam?” Dean asked, even though he knew it was probably too much to hope that the younger man knew what the hell had happened any better than he did. At least it helped him focus on something else other than the pain while Sam worked. 

* * *

Sam frowned checking the wound and making sure it wasn’t deep enough to have cut the artery. They were beyond screwed if it had. Dean told him it was just a scratch and Sam rolled his eyes. Trust Dean to blow off something life threatening.

“Yeah well we need to get the bleeding to stop.” Sam looked around there was a large oak desk and a few baseball trophies but nothing in the way of medical supplies. “ those things track by scent.”

Sam wiped his hands on his shirt and stood going over to look through the desk. There was an ornate silver letter opener on the desk and he grinned shoving it in his back pocket as he pulled open the top drawer. It was full of stationery and Sam pulled it all the way out upending it on the desk as he searched through the contents.

Dean asked him what was going on and Sam looked at him staring for a minute before he looked back down at the stuff on the desk. “We’re in Detroit. Other than that… “He found what he was looking for and whispered a mental thank you to an absent god before he could stop himself.

“Last thing I remember was coming here to gank Lucifer.” Sam lied. He remembered more than that but he wasn’t sure if Dean knew he had said yes. All this destruction it was probably his fault things he had done as his vessel. “I don’t remember much of anything after that.”

Sam knelt down and using a pair of scissors he cut the jeans back enough that he could see the line of the cut. He used some of the cut off denim to clean the wound before he twisted the cap of the super glue.

“This might hurt a little.” Sam informed him glancing up to look at Dean before he started. He had to pinch the edges of the cut together otherwise the glue wouldn’t stick.

“What about you? What do you remember Dean?” Sam asked wondering if Dean remembered more than him.

* * *

Dean nodded absently at Sam’s comment while his brother checked the wound. Yeah, he’d been afraid of that. Hopefully the fact he’d climbed in through the window instead of the front door would throw the buggers off for a while. He watched while Sam got up and started to rummage through the desk, trying not to move too much and make the bleeding worse.

Detroit? Well, that was more than he’d known before but still didn’t tell him much. He wasn’t sure whether to feel relieved or not that Sam didn’t remember what had happened. Then again considering Dean’s last memories before waking up in this hellhole… maybe it was better.

Sam returned and Dean winced when he got a look at the bottle of super glue. Hurt, yeah that would be an understatement, but it should do the trick and stop the bleeding. At least long enough that they might be able to find some real medical supplies and stitch him up properly.

He gave his brother the nod to go ahead. Gritting his teeth and clenching his fingers into fists when Sam began dabbing the wound with the glue.

“I…” _…remember you screaming…_ “…don’t remember anything.” Dean lied. Well, at least the strain in his voice could be blamed on the pain. 

* * *

Sam just sat and furrowed his brow as he concentrated on gluing together the cut and not sticking his fingers too it.

“Any idea what those things are?” Sam asked trying to keep Dean distracted by talking. The sound coming from the street below hadn’t lessened any and he figured that as long as they continued to fail climbing up the side of the building the longer they had to rest and figure out what was going on.

Once he had the edges glued together he pulled the bottle of water and some of the candy out of his bag. “here.” Sam offered them to Dean. He had already drunk a fair amount of water and he wasn’t really hungry.

Sam wondered if there were any more useful supplies in the office. Maybe he could find some flammable chemicals in the janitors cupboard or something.

“You think Lucifer did this?” Sam asked dread curling in his stomach at the thought that maybe he was responsible for all of this. That he had destroyed everything while he had been the fallen angel’s vessel. He wondered how much worse things would have been if Dean had said yes too.

That thought made him feel even more sick and Sam closed his eyes hand resting on his stomach. Lucifer has tortured them to make him say yes. Why would he have bothered to get Dean to say yes once he had what he wanted once he had Sam.

Sam let out a sigh and opened his eyes turning to look out the window. The screams below grew louder and more frustrated when the things could see him.

“You reckon there is anyone else out there?” Sam asked glancing at Dean. He didn’t want to think about what the answer to that question would be.

* * *

Dean shook his head at his brother’s question.

“No. They look like zombies but they’re too fast, not to mention the teeth and claws. Bastards were strong too.” Dean grunted, listening to the racket the things were still making down below. They were persistent sons of bitches, he’d give them that. He wondered when they were going to give up. _If_ they were going to give up. He and Sam were pretty well trapped in this building unless they did. With no real weapons, and no idea how to kill the fuckers even if they _did_ have weapons… and if they got inside…

“I hit some of them pretty damned hard with that bat. Caved in their skulls. It didn’t even really phase them.” Dean continued, looking down at his leg once Sam had finished gluing him up. It looked horrible but it was better than nothing. Should probably wait till the glue dried before actually putting a bandage on it. That would suck.

When his brother handed him the water and candy Dean looked at the younger man like he’d just given him filet mignon on a silver platter.

“Thanks, man.” Dean said, twisting off the cap to the water and gulping down a good half of it in a few seconds flat. Sam’s question though almost made him lose his appetite.

Dean had said yes. If he and Lucifer had duked it out that would definitely explain why this place looked like World War III. But if that was true then why were they still here? What the hell had happened?

Had Sam… said yes too? They’d tortured his brother like they’d tortured him. It had been his brother’s screams more than his own that had finally broken Dean. If Sam had said yes it wasn’t his fault. He would be the worst hypocrite in the world if he blamed his brother for this. Dean was to blame more than anything. He had broken first. He had broken in hell. Shattered the first seal. Set this whole fucking mess in motion.

“I don’t know, Sammy.” Dean finally answered softly, seeing the guilt written plain as day on his brother’s face and he knew his own must mirror it exactly. “I don’t know.”

* * *

Sam curled up on himself a little twisting his foot up to check the bottom of it. He had stood on something sharp whilst making it down the alleyway to the building and the thought that he had left a trail of blood leading to them was something he only just now had the decency to figure out. His foot wasn’t cut though which was a relief.

Dean drank most of their water and Sam considered pointing it out but considering most of this office seemed to be in tact it was possible they could find more.

Things still stood though. They needed a defensible shelter, decent food and water and they would definitely need warmer clothes. And shoes.

Sam grinned and looked through the bag, almost proud of the fact he had done better than Dean in the survival stakes. Dean didn’t have much except for the bat that he appeared to have dropped when Sam pulled him up.

“Well, you want to see if we can’t find somewhere a little safer to hold up till morning?” Sam doubted those things would give up anytime soon but they might be able to find an executive office with a comfy couch they can take turns sleeping on. Maybe even an office kitchen with food. Anything would be better than Babe Ruth bars and Milk duds.

“Unless you want to just sleep here?” Sam doubted that the things would manage to climb up the side of the building but if any of them managed to make it into the building they would be able to sniff Dean’s leg from a mile away.

If they could find another full water cooler then they could probably wash of the blood. It would certainly help cover up the smell but till then they were both like the special herbs and spices at a fried chicken store to those things outside.

It wasn’t like Sam had checked that the place was secure and there were probably other entry ways he hadn’t made sure were locked and those things outside might be smart enough to go sniffing around and finding them.

Of course that was a lot of ifs. Sam just wanted to go to sleep or maybe wake up and find this was just a dream. 

* * *

Dean was glad when Sam dropped the subject, it really wasn’t something he wanted to think about right now. Right now they had more immediate problems, as his brother pointed out.

“Yeah, lets go. Just give me a minute.” Dean replied, agreeing to Sam’s suggestion that they find someplace more secure for the night. There wasn’t any indication it would be safer to travel during the day, hell it might even make it easier for those things to find them. But Dean knew he wasn’t up to walking any long distance now, much less running if he had to. As fast as those things were they’d be on him in a second. They just had to hope those things were too stupid to get in the building and his leg would be good enough in the morning they could travel.

Dean finished off his candy bar then checked the ‘stitch’ job Sam had made with the glue and figured it was dry enough. He grabbed the bandages his brother had pulled out of his bag earlier and started wrapping them around the wound. Hopefully they would help hold the wound together so he didn’t rip it open again and ring the dinner bell for those things.

Satisfied he was patched up as good as he was going to get, Dean struggled to his feet trying to put as little weight on his wounded leg as possible. It hurt like a motherfucker but the glue seemed to be holding at least.

He looked at his brother, who looked to be in pretty good shape considering everything. A lot better shape than Dean was at any rate, and he felt relief swell in him almost dizzying in its intensity. It was really a fucking miracle. That they were both still alive, together, after everything they'd been through…

“I’m glad you’re ok, man.” Dean admitted, knowing he was just inviting a chick flick moment with that comment but at the same time not really caring. 

* * *

Sam started repacking the bag, taking what supplies he had found in the small office even if it was only more paper clips, the scissors and the silver letter opener. Beggars can’t be choosers. His stomach still churned and complained but he couldn’t bring himself to eat anything. A drink would be good but they only had half a bottle of water until they found more. Sam could wait a little bit longer.

Other than the cut on his leg and a few scrapes and bruises Dean looked okay. Sam couldn’t even describe the ecstatic feeling that gave him. Looking at a Dean who looked like this made it easy to forget the screaming he had heard before he said yes.

But Sam couldn’t dwell on that now. Dean started to get up and Sam grabbed his shoulder helping him stand even though he knew Dean would probably push him off.

“You think you can manage the stairs?” Sam asked considering making their way up to a higher floor so that at least they weren’t on the same level that the things below were trying to climb up to. They only needed to climb a couple more floors and then barricade the stairwells. That way they had control over all of the entrances. 

* * *

Dean raised an eyebrow at Sam’s response, or rather lack of it, to his words. With that kind of opening he figured the younger man would have tried to hug him in the very least. Sam was usually all over that ‘share your feelings’ crap. But when his brother reached out to him it was only to help him stand. All business. Asking him if he could manage the stairs.

“I’m fine.” He confirmed, shrugging the younger man’s hand off his shoulder. If Sam was all business he could be too. Besides, it wasn’t as though he _wanted_ a hug or anything. There was no reason to go get all emotional just cause they’d survived the friggen apocalypse and narrowly avoided being eaten by mutant zombies.

Ok, now he was just being bitchy. Time to knock off this PMS shit, or he might have to check to make sure Michael hadn’t given him girly parts while he’d been riding his meat suit.

Sam grabbed their bag of supplies and Dean did his best not to limp too noticeably as he followed the younger man towards the stairs. At least the stairs seemed mostly intact and they probably wouldn’t have to worry about them toppling underneath them as they made their way up.

Unfortunately he only made it half way up to the next floor before Dean really started to regret it. 

* * *

Sam frowned at Dean’s stubbornness. There was no way he should be walking on that leg. Sam was almost tempted to just throw him over his shoulder and carry his stubborn older brother over his shoulder up the stairs. But he really didn’t feel like fighting with Dean right now. It was his fault that this had happened.

He was the one that said yes because he couldn’t take hearing Dean scream any more than he could take the pain that was being inflicted on himself. But all this destruction and those things outside that was all on him. He was the one that let Lucifer use him as his vessel and gave him the ability to do such awful things.

Sam stopped at the top of the stairs and turned around to wait for Dean. The look on his brother’s face just made Sam feel worse. He wanted to go up to at least another five floors before they stopped but Dean was obviously in pain and he hadn’t even made it up one flight. He shook his head and walked back down to Dean.

“Catch.” Sam said throwing the bag at Dean before he scooped his brother up in his arms. The weight of his brother where he had him cradled against his chest was a heavy reminder of just how sore and achy he was but It still wasn’t as bad as letting Dean climb the stairs on that bad leg.

Before Dean had a chance to argue Sam turned and started back up the stairs. “So any thoughts on what we should do Dean?”

* * *

Sam throwing the bag to him took Dean by surprise even with his brother’s warning. He barely caught the bag thrown to him and almost lost his balance on the stairs to boot. That would have been just peachy. Surviving those things outside just to fall down the stairs and break his neck. But before he could cuss his brother out for being a dick Sam was next to him, reaching down, and lifting him up in a fucking bridal carry.

Dean stuttered for a few moments before he finally found his voice.

“What the fuck, Sam! Put me down.” Dean protested, completely ignoring the younger man’s question because it was probably only to shut him up in the first place. Well, he wasn’t going to shut up. This was fucking demeaning. He could walk damn it! And he’d go to his grave before admitting that they were moving a hell of a lot faster now with Sam carrying him.

“I mean it, Sam. Put me down, damn it!”

What if the stairs wouldn’t hold their combined weight? They had no idea how stable these things were. Sure they seemed solid enough, but it wasn’t like they’d get any warning before falling through them! What if Sam got tired and dropped him? He knew the younger man was already exhausted from hauling his heavy ass up with the fire hose. 

* * *

“Quit it Dean.” Sam growled angrily as he continued to climb the stairs. Dean was being such a baby about the whole being carried thing. In the time it took him to sputter and get the swearing Sam had already reached the next floor and was making his way up toward another.

It was almost pitch black in the stairwell. But Sam could make out the most basic of detail. Like the railing on the outer edge of the steps. Sam stayed close to the wall though because if the stairs were going to break then the railing could be missing and he wasn’t planning on stumbling off the edge of the stairs now he had gotten this far.

Sam wasn’t worried about the structure of the building sure it was damaged but there was no sign of damage in the stairwell and no major cracks or anything in the walls or the stairs that he could see. But the sooner they got to somewhere to hold up till they were rested would certainly make him feel a whole lot less worried about the whole situation.

“Your hurt and I’m not going to buy into your macho Bullshit.” Sam really didn’t want to have to argue with his brother on this point. “We’re almost there and you can walk once were out of the stairwell alright?”

Sam had absolutely no intention of putting Dean down. Not until they had found somewhere safe. And hell Dean could take first watch if he wanted because Sam’s shoulders were so sore it felt like the nerve endings were screaming at him. 

* * *

Sam’s angry growl silenced Dean. Mostly. The older man still grumbled under his breath because his pride wouldn’t let him be completely complacent while he was being carried around like a chick. But he could tell his brother was frustrated as well as exhausted and getting to their destination as quickly as possible was probably the best for both of them at this point.

Finally they reached the floors of the office building which must have once been the higher up executive offices. The big clue being the doors all had card key readers on them so only people with the proper clearance could open them.

Sam put him down, as promised, and they started trying different doors in the stairwell. Unsurprisingly none of them opened. With the power out in the building, Dean wondered if it was even possible to unlock them. Goddamn technology. Picking the locks was out.

“Now what?” Dean asked, more than a bit exasperated after tying yet another door in the stairwell that wouldn’t open.

* * *

It didn’t take that long to reach the landing of the next floor but Sam doubted that he could carry Dean any further. It would have to do for tonight. He put Dean back down standing him back on his feet and wriggled his shoulder blades and tilted his head from side to side in an attempt to alleviate the burn in his spine.

The first of the executive suites were on this floor and Sam could only stare in disbelief at the keycard locks on the doors. They must have some kind of backup power supply because that sort of thing tended to unlock in emergencies and power outages. These things were locked tight.

“Stay here.” Sam ordered Dean before he ran up and checked the next two floors. They had the same deal. The electronic locks working and Sam wanted to scream with anger. This shit just wasn’t fair. All he had wanted to do was save his brother, to stop the sounds of Dean screaming from constantly ringing in his ears.

He should have known better than to listen to Lucifer. Sam should have known that his promises were all lies. He definitely should have learned his lesson after Ruby.

Sam ran his hands through his hair gripping it and pulling it a little in frustration. Maybe he could break through the dry wall with the tire bar but that would defeat the purpose of having a closeable door between them and the things outside.

He leaned forward resting his forehead against the cool metal of the fire door and tried to quell the anger and frustration that was making the pain in his head turn from dull throb to aneurysm. He couldn’t go back down stairs to Dean when he was so angry he was on the verge of tears.

Sam banged his fists against the door in anger kicking it too just for good measure. The thought that they had made it this far just to be beaten by an unlock able door made Sam growl out his frustration between clenched teeth.

It felt like such a defeat that Sam closed his eyes and concentrated on putting his game face on so he could go back down and face Dean. The last thing he needed right now was Dean trying to act all macho and protect him when he was the one who could still walk.

In that instant the pain in his head flared like a burning knife slicing through his brain. Sam’s vision blurred and he had to gasp for air because he felt like he couldn’t breathe. The pain was so intense that Sam ground his teeth hard enough that it caused his ears to pop.

For a moment Sam thought he might pass out. Then there was the sound of an electronic beep and abruptly the pain stopped. It roared back down to the dull throb that it had been before he started panicking about Dean.

Sam was on his knees, sweat soaked and with a headache that not even all the Tylenol he had in the gym bag was likely to put a dent in it. But the door was open.

* * *

Dean frowned at Sam’s order to stay put, but given his leg he wasn’t given much choice. He watched as the younger man ran up the stairs. He listened to his brother’s footsteps and frustrated curses echoing back down the empty stairwell when he could no longer see the younger man. It seemed like Sam wasn’t having any luck with the doors on the floors above, not that Dean had really expected him to.

Alright. So they had a few options. They could go back down a couple levels to the floors with doors that didn’t have locks on them they couldn’t open. Or they could try working at some of the doors with the electronic locks.

Dean doubted they would be able to hot-wire them, or whatever, the way you saw in spy movies. But maybe they could short them out or something and that would get the lock to release. Or maybe they could try to pry the door handle off. Or wedge something in the jam and force the door open.

But all of that would take time and energy neither he nor Sam really had at the moment.

Dean glanced up the stairs. He’d expected the younger man to be back by now. He didn’t hear his brother’s footsteps or voice anymore. He didn’t hear anything. What was Sam doing up there?

“Sam?” Dean called up the stairwell, but only his own voice echoed back. A cold knot of fear began to coil in his stomach. “Sam!”

Nothing.

Dean started up the stairs despite the other man’s instructions to stay where he was. Fuck that. Why wasn’t his brother answering him? Dean did his best to ignore the intense pain in his leg from moving so fast, no longer really caring if he ripped open the makeshift stitch job that Sam had done.

When he finally saw his brother on his knees clutching at his head, Dean all but ran up the last flight of stairs.

“Sam! What the hell happened?” Dean demanded, as he dropped down next to the younger man and started examining his brother for injury. 

* * *

Sam was having difficulty focusing. His vision was still blurry and everything that hurt before just hurt more now. But at least the painful thing that was ripping its way out of his skull had gone now. Now he just had his brother screaming at him right next to his ear.

Sam frowned raising a shaky hand to press to his brow as he tried to focus on getting the stomach lurching image of his brother to stop swimming in his vision. “Dean?”

Dean’s hands started trailing over him and Sam realized that Dean thought he had been hurt. Sam reached out and put his hands against Dean’s shoulders. Then gently pushed him back to arm’s length.

“I’m okay.” Sam breathes out.

It occurs to Sam that Dean just climbed three flights of stairs on his bad leg and Sam looked down not really that surprised to see fresh blood staining the bandage.

“What are you doing up here Dean? I told you to stay put.” Sam admonishes his brother. Dean could be such an over protective dick sometimes. Sam glanced around and was glad to see that at least Dean had lugged the bag of supplies up the stairs with him even if it meant he had torn open his leg again.

* * *

Dean frowned at his brother when Sam pushed him away without answering his question, simply insisting that he was fine.

“My ass.” The older man muttered angrily, staring at Sam as his brother knelt there in front of him looking like he was ready to hurl and still clutching at his head. Yeah, Sam was just fucking peachy. He could tell.

The whole scene was really damned familiar though and caused a decidedly uneasy feeling to settle in Dean’s stomach. It was just like when Sam first started having those… visions. Way back before they knew old yellow-eyes end game. Before angels and demons. Before Lucifer and Michael. Before Ruby and the demon blood, Sam dying and Dean going to hell, and… everything.

Was Sam having visions again? Why now after all this time? If he _was_ and Sam was trying to hide this shit from him again… Dean was going to be really pissed. Or maybe Dean was just overreacting. No, not overreacting because something was _definitely_ wrong with Sam he just didn’t know what, but maybe he was jumping to conclusions.

Then his brother had the fucking nerve to get bitchy with him about coming up the stairs? Fine, his leg hurt about ten times worse than it had before, he could feel blood soaking into the bandage, and he wasn’t sure he was going to be able to stand back up again. But that wasn’t the point. Dean was starting to think the younger man was just looking for an ass kicking.

“I called. You didn’t answer me. What the hell happened, Sam?” Dean repeated, ready to smack the younger man if Sam avoided his question again. 

* * *

Dean was really pissed. Sam didn’t have to be psychic to pick up on that. He watched the anger flicker in his brother’s eyes and he wondered just what it was that Dean was thinking. Although it was kind of obvious what it was given that he was still breathing heavy and wincing at the pain in his head.

Sam had to ignore that little voice in his head that told him his brother thought he was a freak. Because he was past that. He knew Dean didn’t think he was a freak although Sam had done a lot of shit that had made it his own fault If Dean did. Sam rubbed at his forehead again with the heel of his palm.

Sam frowned when Dean told him he had called out to him because he honestly hadn’t heard him at all. He was tempted to try sarcasm and ask if maybe Dean whispered but the look on Dean’s face told him he wouldn’t take any shit from him and he certainly wasn’t going to sit there and let Sam get away with lying to his face. Sam sighed in frustration and confusion because he wasn’t all that sure what was wrong with him.

“It wasn’t a vision or anything…” Sam figured that was the best way to start this conversation that he had no inkling to have as he met Dean’s gaze. He wasn’t about to let his brother stare him down just because he wasn’t really running on a hundred per cent. He still felt like shit and even muscles he didn’t know he had ached.

Sam closed his eyes, biting his own tongue as he contemplated how he was going to explain what he was feeling. Rode hard and put away wet was probably a good analogy. HE wondered if all vessels felt like that afterwards. It wasn’t like he had ever thought to ask Jimmy that time when Castiel went AWOL.

“I’m tired just Dean.” Sam decides is the closest thing to the truth than anything else he could have told him except for well the actual truth. But Sam wasn’t ever having the whole. _I said yes and all this is my fault_ conversation with Dean if he could avoid it. Besides appealing to Dean that he needs looking after rather than being yelled at should help dissuade Dean from asking any more annoying questions about what happened.

“Let’s just get inside and find somewhere to hold up. Neither of us are in any condition to fight right now.” Sam hoped that was enough of an answer for the time being to sate Dean’s anger

* * *

Sam met his gaze unflinching when he reassured him that it hadn’t been a vision and Dean knew his brother wasn’t lying to him. But he wasn’t sure whether to feel relieved or more worried now. At least if it had been a vision then they’d know what the hell they were dealing with. Now they didn’t know what the hell was wrong and Sam wasn’t giving him much to go on. How was he supposed to help his brother when he didn’t know what the hell was going on?

Maybe Sam was suffering from a migraine? His brother never really suffered from them before, except during those damned visions, but there was a first time for everything. But what if it was something worse? What if his brother was having an aneurysm or something? What if Sam was bleeding into his brain right this fucking second and there was nothing Dean could do about it. It wasn’t like he could rush Sam to the fucking hospital…

Ok, he was just freaking himself out now. Sam said he was just tired and even though Dean thought it was bullshit he really wanted to believe his brother. That Sam would go to sleep and wake up and he would be fine.

So Dean merely nodded in agreement even though the worry in his eyes didn’t fade. When he looked up however his expression changed to shock when he noticed for the first time the door behind his brother was open. What the hell? When were they ever that lucky? Now probably wasn’t the best time to look a gift horse in the mouth though.

“Come on, Sasquatch.” Dean grunted and started trying to help Sam back to his feet even though he wasn’t sure he was going to make it himself. Fuck, his leg hurt something bad now, but no way he was letting Sam carry him again. Not the way his brother looked now.

* * *

Sam was wondering if Dean wasn’t about as freaked about this as he was. The look of concern on his brother’s face made Sam feel bad for not just coming out and telling him that he thinks his powers are back. But there was another face the one that Dean wore when he had called Sam a monster, When Dean had found out about him drinking the demon blood. Sam didn’t want to see that face. So he had no intention of telling Dean anything that might change that look of concern to that look.

His hair was slick with sweat and Sam brushed it out of his eyes as he followed Dean’s gaze to the open door. Dean looked just as surprised as Sam felt about the fact that it was open. But Sam doubted that he needed to let Dean in on the fact it was closed and locked before his headache hit.

It takes Sam a minute to get up on his feet. His stomach lurching as it threatened to empty itself while the world spun around him. Sam placed his hands on Dean’s shoulders again. Looking at him while he waited for the world to stop spinning.

Once it stopped he helped Dean up sliding an arm under his and across his back to support him because no way he was letting his brother stand on that leg. Not at least until the bleeding stopped.

“No arguments.” Sam informed him grabbing hold of Dean’s shirt so it was harder for him to push Sam away.

Sam pushed the door open the rest of the way. Glancing around and making sure that the place seemed okay before he led Dean through the door.

The stairwell opened onto the Lift area and beyond that there was a glass walled reception area. Sam had to assume that somewhere beyond that there would be one of those cozy executive type offices with real walls as opposed to the thin fibro walls that most of these places had. If they could find that then they could barricade themselves a little more securely.

Sam looked back at the door. If they pulled it shut it would lock and he doubted he would have the luck to be able to unlock it again. But at least it was a solid object between them and the things below.

“I think we should shut this.”

* * *

It seemed to take forever before Dean finally managed to haul his brother to his feet. Christ, Sam weighed a ton. To be honest he wasn’t all that certain who was supporting who right now. When Sam finally regained his balance and pulled his arm over his shoulder for support arguing was the last thing on his mind. He’d really pissed off his leg by running up those stairs and now any weight he put on it felt like a dagger slicing its way slowly up his calf.

Dean realized the pair of them must look like the walking wounded as they limped their way into the office space. He hoped they’d be able to find water and food somewhere up here because they might be stuck here for a while.

Sam’s suggestion to shut the door behind them was probably their best option for now. Even though Dean really didn’t want to be trapped up here indefinitely if they couldn’t get the door open again he also didn’t want to have to fight off a horde of those fucking zombie things if they got inside. Considering the state they were in and the fact they had no real weapons the risk of getting locked in was the lesser evil at the moment.

Besides, if push came to shove they could always try climbing out a window or down the elevator shaft or something.

“Good idea.” Dean agreed with a nod, waiting for Sam to shut the door behind them and trying not to put too much of his weight on the younger man. Unfortunately he wasn’t doing too good a job of it. 

* * *

Sam pushed the door shut behind him and tried to ignore the soft click of the mechanism relocking as Dean leaned against him. He stood still teetering slightly as he leaned against Dean and his brother leaned right back against him. They made a pretty sorry pair. Sam just hoped that since the door was locked that there wasn’t one of those things in here with them because given the state they were both in and the fact the only weapon they had was a tire bar, they would probably get their asses handed to them.

With his arm still around Dean he walked the two of them over to the reception desk and lowered Dean down onto the large office chair there. “well at least the chair’s on wheels.” Sam tells him with a smile. He has every intention of wheeling Dean around the offices in it. That way he doesn’t have to carry him.

He began rummaging through the desk, hoping to find something useful. He finds a sheet of Advil in the first draw and pops them out swallowing them dry. They didn’t have enough water for them to waste just yet.

The next draw down was locked and Sam uses a pair of scissors from the first draw to pry it open. He almost whoops with joy at the fact that he finds a keypass in the draw. “looks like our luck is finally changing.” Sam exclaims as he hands it to Dean. Other than that there isn’t really anything useful in the desk. He tries the phone but there is no dial tone obviously the backup power is just for the locks on the doors.

"Well whats say we check this place out."

* * *

Dean wasn’t about to complain when Sam helped him over to the reception desk and sat him down in one of the nice comfy chairs, letting him take some of the painful pressure off of his leg. Just that short walk was almost too much for him though he’d never admit that aloud. He sat back and enjoyed the break while Sam started rummaging through the desk.

Even though he made a face at Sam’s comment. Not to mention the mental image of his brother wheeling him around like they were two kids playing in their father’s office or something. But it was more for show than anything. Dean knew he’d reached his limit and Sam must be pretty close to it too if he wasn’t there already. It was definitely a better option than him limping around like a cripple and bleeding all over the whole office space. Besides, now that he was sitting down he really didn’t want to get back up again.

He watched Sam take the Advil and popped a few out for himself when his brother was finished. Even though it probably wouldn’t do shit for the pain beggars couldn’t be choosers and it was better than nothing.

“Nice.” Dean agreed with a nod as Sam handed over the key card he’d discovered. He really hadn’t wanted to climb down the elevator shaft or anything so that was definitely a plus. Maybe they could even use the card to get onto some of the other floors. Right now he nodded at Sam’s suggestion they explore the floor they were currently on.

He didn’t even complain when Sam started pushing him around, instead making himself useful by keeping a lookout for any more of those zombie things, or worse, that might be lurking in the dark. Away from the windows the office space wasn’t much brighter than the stairway had been. Off the main hallway Dean made out what he figured were rows of cubicles, probably where the secretaries and people who did the grunt work for the higher ups did their jobs. A little further down the offices seemed to get progressively larger and more expensive looking. They passed what looked like a conference room, and a little further down finally hit the jackpot. A rather large lounge type area, probably where all the secretaries went when fetching their bosses coffee and shit.

There was a fridge, which probably had no power like the rest of this place, so depending on how long it had been out any food inside was probably gross by now. But there might be water or soda inside. There were a lot of cupboards too, which hopefully held some non-perishable food items.

“What do you think the chances are they stocked beer in there?” Dean joked, nodding at the fridge. 

* * *

The cubicles were no good. If Sam didn't feel like refried crap he might have taken the time to search each and every cubicle for weapons or supplies or hell at this point a stick of gum would be good. Sam seriously doubted anyone at those tiny little cubicles would have a size fourteen men's shoe for a right foot. Sam glanced down at his bare foot and wriggled his toes before continuing on.

That's when they found the lounge. Sam could damn near cry from how comfortable the two couches looked. There was a fridge, a sink, and dishwasher with a few cupboards around them. Sam hoped that there would be nonperishable food of some sort in one of them.

Sam wheeled Dean over to the nearest couch but resisted his own urge to slump down onto the other one. Instead he turned the chair enough that Dean was facing him. He held out his fist and grinned.

"Rock paper scissors to see who braves the fridge?" Sam asked raising an eyebrow. "Whoever wins can open it and they get dibs on whatever is in there. Beer included." Sam figured it was a fair trade. He could let Dean have whatever beer was in there because if the food in there was rotten Sam doubted he would be able to keep from losing his cookies again.

He just didn't have it in him to retch again though. Besides it was more than easy to let Dean win. Dean always picked rock. It was one of those things that just never changed like the sun rising in the east and setting in the west. Although it was feasible given what may or may not have happened while he was Lucifer's vessel that the sun might not be so predictable any more.

* * *

Dean mimicked Sam’s raised eyebrow at his brother’s wording. ‘Braving’ the fridge certainly didn’t sound like much of a reward and Dean seriously doubted there was actually any beer in there. He’d been joking at the time. This was an office building after all, not a dorm room. And considering Sam usually won their little rock, paper, scissors matches Dean had to wonder a little what was the catch.

In spite of all this, Dean held out his fist obediently, and on the three count made his usual choice. Rock. For once Sam picked scissors and Dean finally understood what the catch was. Sam had let him win.

Dean rolled his eyes a little. He should have known. But he wasn’t going to complain. Even in the practically non-existent light he could tell his brother was completely rung out. Sam needed a breather, but would probably never admit that. So Dean merely nodded towards the couches before pushing himself up carefully from the rolling chair.

“Have a seat.” He told the younger man before practically hopping over to the sink. Checking the cupboard underneath he found what he’d been hoping for. A stash of trash bags, so if there was anything rotting in the fridge he would only have to ‘brave’ it once and toss it out.

Checking a few more cupboards and drawers on his way to the fridge he found some plastic forks, spoons, and knives. Some large canisters of instant coffee and tea, if they could find more water and a way to heat it that could come in handy. Dean perked up even more when the next cupboard revealed boxes of power bars, chips, granola, various brands of serving sized cereals, and some instant soup cups. Dean straightened and tossed a power bar over to his brother.

“Looks like we hit the jackpot, Sammy.” Dean said happily. There was enough food here to last them a few days at least. If they were lucky there might even be a storeroom with more, and this was just the stuff on hand. Finally reaching the fridge Dean hiked up the collar of his shirt over his nose as some protection from the expected smell and opened the fridge.

Like nearly everything else in the building the power was out in the fridge and it wasn’t very pretty inside. There were Tupperware containers of food items so spoiled they looked more like science experiments than anything recognizable as food. Some health conscious office worker must have also decided to keep fruit available for the employees in one of the fridge drawers, which of course were all spoiled now. All in all though it probably wasn’t as bad as it could be. At least there was also plenty of bottles of water, soda, and juice.

Trying not to gag Dean started throwing out the bad food, trying to ignore the liquefied squishing sound most of it made. When he was done he quickly tied off the bag and threw it all in the trash bin under the sink, quickly shutting the cupboard. Hopefully the bag would cut off most of the smell. Sam could find a better place to throw it later. Hey, he cleaned out the fridge, Sam could take out the trash. Finally dropping his shirt away from his nose, Dean went back to the fridge.

“Want something to drink? They’ve got water, soda, and juice in here.” Dean offered, grabbing a water for himself. 

* * *

Sam had to try really hard not to smirk when his brother agreed to rock paper scissors for the temptation of beer. HE did kind of feel bad though even as he went scissors instead of paper for the first time since he was nine and had cottoned on to the fact that Dean always threw rock. But it was also good to share something familiar with his brother.

Dean pointed to the couches and told him to sit. Sam didn’t want to sit. Because he knew that once he did he probably wouldn’t get back up again anytime soon. The throb in the front of his skull thankfully enough of a distraction to the overall ache and weariness that felt like he could never sleep enough to get the feeling out of his bones.

Instead Sam leaned against the end of the wall, folding his arms across his chest as he used the wall to hold himself up. Sam watched Dean limp around and rummage through the draws and cupboards. He was more tired than he had realized because his eyes slipped closed as he stood there.

Sam would swear that he wasn’t really asleep. That he was just resting his eyes but then something hit him solidly in the chest and he jumped eyes going wide as he flailed and caught the bar on the third grab as it fell toward the floor. At least he didn’t follow it down.

He glanced at Dean who turned to tell him that they had hit the jackpot and Sam just hoped that Dean hadn’t seen it. “You still have to check the fridge.” Sam reminds Dean hoping that his brother wasn’t planning on just stopping with the snacks in the cupboards.

Dean started going through the fridge and Sam was surprised that he actually threw all of the rotten food in the trash bag. Of course the fact that he put it back in the bin under the sink meant that he was going to have to find somewhere to empty it later. Now that the fridge was empty of rotting refuse Sam watched as Dean began digging around for a beer.

“Nah,” Sam shakes his head. He wasn’t thirsty. He had drank all that water before and it was still sloshing uncomfortably in his belly. Which was why he wasn’t going to eat the granola bar either. Sam doubted that he could keep anything down right now.

“I’ve got to hit the head.” Sam tell Dean, figuring that he could go and find the toilet and check the rest of the floor to make sure it was safe for them to sleep here. That was what was important right now. He was exhausted but Sam could see the weariness in his brother too. If he made sure that they were locked in and alone then they could both curl up and sleep for a while.

* * *

At his brother’s negation Dean shut the fridge, even though it wasn’t actually keeping anything cool anymore, it was just habit. He opened up his own water and started to drink from it when Sam stated he was going to look for the bathroom. Dean almost offered to go with the younger man but then thought better of it. It had been hard enough limping around this small lounge area and he knew his leg wasn’t going to hold out much longer. Besides what was he going to do, hold it for his brother?

“Alright. I’ll be here.” Dean forced himself to say even though everything inside of him screamed not to let Sam out of his sight. What if Sam didn’t come back? What if something happened to his brother? What if those things cornered Sam?

Dean literally shook those thoughts away. His brother would be fine. Dean was just still on edge from everything that had happened. Sam was a big boy, he could take care of himself. They hadn’t seen a sign of those things since they came up here. Nothing was going to happen to Sam.

_Yeah right, and the last time you let him out of your sight you found him on his knees minutes later._ An evil little voice spoke up in his head and Dean growled at it angrily to shut up. Sam would be fine.

After his brother left Dean forced himself to move over to the couches and sat down on one of them, grateful to be off his feet once more. Leaning forward he reached down and carefully pulled up the leg of his pants, wincing a little as he got a good look at how much blood had soaked through the bandages. Sighing softly, knowing there was little he could do, he leaned back again and shifted so he could lay down on the couch. His bad leg stretched out as comfortably as possible on the cushions.

He wanted to let his eyes close so damned bad but he wanted to wait till Sam returned before sleeping. 

* * *

Dean told him alright and Sam sat the granola bar down on the bench. Then he turned and made his way down the hall and straight past the door with the silhouette of the man and woman. Sam felt more than a little unsure about leaving Dean alone though.

His mind kept going back seeing Dean looking up at him from the side of that truck. If even just one of those things were in here with them they were both beyond royally screwed. Neither of them had the fight or strength left in them to defend themselves. Sam could only hope that if there was something here that he would find it first in an attempt to give Dean a chance to get out.

Of course Sam was just being facetious. He knew that if Dean thought Sam was in danger he would come running to help not run the other way to save himself.

Sam passed all of the locked doors. But the ones that were not locked he opened and stared into the darkness. When he was certain that the room was empty he pulled the door shut and moved onto the next one. Doing it that way didn’t take too long there was only about a dozen doors that didn’t have the electronic lock keeping them shut. Sam had left the key with Dean anyway.

He was about half way through when he came across a matching alcove on the opposite side of the building and Sam grinned at his good fortune. A large copier sat in the center of the room and there were cupboards filled with office supplies on either side of a long bench that ran along the back wall.

There was a fax machine and various small office machinery, including a paper shredder. But the thing that made Sam smile broad enough to make his dimples show was the large guillotine sitting on the bench. Sam inspected the blade and where it attached to the board. It hinged on a large bolt and all he had to do was get the bolt to detach.

The bolt wasn’t something that Sam could undo by hand but he was fairly certain that he could wrench the bolt out of the wood and leave the heavy base behind. If he got the blade back to Dean the two of them could work out the removal of the bolt easier than Sam’s achy brain could think of right now. So he pulled the thing onto the floor, standing on the wood as he worked at wrenching the blade free of the base.

It took him about five minutes of too strenuous effort, but by the time the bolt tore free Sam was sodden with sweat and having difficulty catching his breath. His whole body ached like he had the flu and his heart was pounding inside his head and making him feel dizzy.

But finally they had something they could use as a weapon. Something more useful than the small tire bar that although it was iron, Sam doubted it would help much against those clawed things outside. It occurred to Sam that he and Dean should discuss what they knew about the things and if Dean had seen anything that he thought could be a weakness or an easy way for them to defeat them. They also had to find out what else was still out there. People, Demons or otherwise.

Sam made his way back to the room where Dean was slowly, practically dragging the guillotine blade along behind him. He was grateful that there were no unlocked doors between him and Dean because he was at the point of exhaustion where he was tripping over his own feet. 

* * *

Dean heard the scraping sound before anything else, jolting him out of the light dose he’d fallen into he tensed as his heart rate shot through the roof. For a moment panic set in as he imagined it was one of those things or something worse that had gotten inside. A moment later he started to relax when he saw it was only his brother. The younger man dragging behind him some weird looking blade… no, it was the broken arm of a paper cutter. Just what the hell had his brother been up to?

“I thought you were just going to piss.” Dean commented with a slight frown. He didn’t like the fact that Sam had lied to him about what he was going to do. Especially considering how much worse his brother looked when he got back. Had his brother run into trouble? Had Sam had another… attack… or whatever?

His expression more than a little concerned, Dean started to push himself up from the couch.

“Are you all right, man?” He asked worriedly. 

* * *

When Sam finally reached the little alcove with the couches where he had left Dean he couldn’t help but grin. He felt a little vindicated and buoyed up. Maybe a little like the cave man returning with fire because he had secured the floor and found a useful weapon. True it wasn’t a machete but it would still do a good deal of damage to whoever you hit with it. Well if you had the strength to swing it that was. Sam doubted he could even lift the damn thing right now.

Dean didn’t look very happy, though it was probably because he was oblivious to the fact that Sam was returning as a conquering hero. Even if all he had really conquered was wrenching his shoulder when he got the blade free from the guillotine.

“I did.” Sam told him with a shrug as he made his way to the couch. Since he had stopped at the toilets on the way back, technically it wasn’t a lie.

Sam frowned at him when Dean asked if he was alright. “pfft...yeah.” Sam said as he rolled his eyes because he was alright. Dead on his feet but he was alive and free and he had his brother with him so he couldn't really complain. Sam slumped down into the couch beside Dean. He kicked his legs out in front of him and lay his head back, then he tilted his head to the side to look at Dean.

“Exhausted. Found this though.” He told his brother with a smile and handed him the blade.

* * *

Dean watched as his brother all but collapsed into the spot that he had just vacated on the couch. Dean’s expression turning more than a little skeptical when the younger man waved off his worry, before finally admitting that he was exhausted. Well, no shit. Dean studied Sam for a moment before finally giving a small nod, almost to himself. Deciding to take his brother’s explanation at face value. Sam simply looked too proud of himself to be in too bad shape. Right?

“I noticed. Thought you were Freddy Krueger or something dragging that thing down the hall.” Dean commented as he took the broken paper cutter arm from the younger man and started to examine it. The blade wasn’t very sharp, in fact it was little better than a club with a metal edge. But beggars couldn’t be choosers. Maybe they could find a way to sharpen it up until they could find some real weapons.

Dean set it next against the wall next to the couch and turned his attention back to Sam. His brother really did look exhausted.

“Why don’t you get some sleep? You look like shit.” Dean told the younger man with a slight teasing grin. Yeah, like Dean looked any better. But one of them should probably stay awake, at least for a little while, to make sure those things outside didn’t track them down, and if they did, that they couldn’t get inside.

He started to get up from the couch so that his brother could lay down and stretch out. 

* * *

“I’m pretty sure we’ve got enough real monsters out there without bringing to life your favorite horror monsters.” Sam stated with a sigh. He was tempted to just lie down right then and there but he needed to be sure that Dean would be okay. That he would still be there when he woke up. Sam scratched a hand through his hair and yawned.

Sam frowned when Dean just took the blade and sat it against the wall. Maybe his brother didn’t think it was that impressive and well true it wasn’t that sharp. But Sam had gone to a lot of effort to wrench that damned thing off and drag it back so that they had more weapons. Sam sat forward rubbing at a twinge in his shoulder and working on rolling it out. Dean didn’t even say thank you, the jerk.

Dean told him he looked like shit and Sam shook his head. “I know what I look like.” He had glimpsed at his reflection when he had checked the bathroom and Dean was more than right. Sam’s eyes were blood shot and there was dark skin under each eye. His hair looked like it hadn’t been washed in a month and there was stuff dried in it. He didn’t want to think about what it was.

The only reason he wasn’t still streaked all over with dirt and god knew what else was because he had washed his face in the locker room. But he wasn’t going to win any beauty pageants in his coveralls either. And even before the episode he had had earlier that felt like his brain was trying to work its way out of his skull he had felt sick. Every joint in his body aching like he had the flu or he had the living daylights beaten out of him.

Dean on the other hand looked just as much like refried crap as Sam felt. His clothes were stained with blood and he looked pale. Probably too much blood loss from the gash in his leg. Sam would have to make a point of making sure that Dean drank some orange juice if they had that in the fridge. It wouldn’t do much but it would help shore up his bodies lack of iron. Well at least that’s what the blood bank had told him when he had given blood in college and they had given him a cookie and a glass of o.j. afterwards.

“But have you seen yourself lately?” Sam asked Dean with a smirk. He knew that his brother liked to look good. Even though Dean would vehemently deny any such thing. But Sam was forever catching Dean using the scrubs and things that he brought for himself. One time he had brought Dean an aftershave cleanser and Dean had accused him of trying to turn him into a girl. But Dean still used that stuff when he thought Sam wasn’t looking.

Dean moved to get off the couch and Sam reached out grabbing Dean’s wrist before his brother could move away. “Where are you going?”

* * *

Dean couldn’t help but grin more at his brother’s rather touchy reply regarding how Sam looked. Ok, it was childish, but annoying Sam had always been one of Dean’s favorite past times. It was like a big brother law or something, to annoy the shit out of your little brother whenever possible.

“Touché.” Dean remarked when Sam pointed out he looked just as bad, if not worse. Yeah, he already knew that. God, what he wouldn’t give for a shower right now. Not only for the dirt and blood, a nice hot shower would have done wonders for his aching muscles. Too bad it looked like neither of them would be enjoying that luxury any time soon.

Detroit… fuck, it was still hard to believe that war zone outside really used to be a major US city. Dean couldn’t help but wonder if the whole city was like this or if he and Sam were just lucky to wake up in the middle of Zombie Land. With their luck he couldn’t really be surprised if that was the case. But what if the whole city was like this? What if the whole damn country… the world… was like this?

All because he’d said yes… yes to get off the rack… yes to torturing souls in hell… yes to letting an archangel ride around in his skin so he could have the ultimate pissing match with the devil… Dean shook his head clear of those thoughts. They didn’t know that… after all, if that had really happened, why were he and Sam still here?

Dean looked down at Sam’s hand in surprise when his brother caught him by the wrist. His eyes following the younger man’s arm back up to his face and giving his brother an odd look when Sam asked where he was going.

“Um… the chair? So you can lay down? Get some sleep?” Dean repeated slowly as though Sam had hit his head when he’d been gone. Hell, for all he knew Sam had. 

* * *

  
Dean looked at him like perhaps he had hit his head and maybe at some point he had. Sam certainly felt like his head had been slammed against something hard. And the headache from opening the door was still buzzing behind his eyes. But Sam wasn’t an idiot. He knew Dean was vacating his seat so he could sleep.

The thing was Sam needed to know that Dean wasn’t going anywhere while he did sleep. He didn’t like the idea of his brother sneaking off to find out what was going on. If he did Sam had this gnawing feeling that Dean would get eaten, or worse. Especially with his leg the way it was, and Dean was all for acting tougher and stronger than he was.

“I know that! Jerk.” Sam told him letting go of Dean’s wrist with a slight shove. “I meant, what are you going to do while I’m sleeping?”

“It’s just us here you know. It’s pretty secure.” Sam explained hoping maybe Dean would curl up and sleep a little too. It wasn’t like his brother wouldn’t wake up at the first hint of a bee’s fart.

Sam had seen those things outside. They had been silent until they had caught the scent of whatever it was that had drawn them to Dean. But then they’d hollered like soccer fans once they had their scent.

Sam doubted that any of them would quietly break in and sneak up on them. They would hear them coming from a mile away. So he didn’t see why Dean couldn’t sleep too. But he also knew his older brother. Knew that Dean wouldn’t rest until he was sure it was safe. The way things were outside it was possible that Dean would never sleep again.

“Just… promise you won’t go anywhere while I’m asleep okay?” Sam asked, feeling a like a little kid with the sound of desperation that carried in his voice. 

* * *

Dean couldn’t help the way his lips twitched in amusement when Sam called him a jerk. It seemed like a long time since his brother had called him that. To everyone else in the world it sounded like an insult, but for him and Sam it was anything but… ok sometimes it was still an insult but it was more than that too.  


  
Dean couldn’t help but recall the time he’d been under the Djinn’s spell and he’d called Sam a ‘bitch’ and his brother didn’t know to call him a ‘jerk’ back. That had smarted more than a little. Just another sign of the distance between him and that fake Sam, they had barely been brothers in more than just blood. When he’d snapped out of the dream Dean had felt an insane urge to hug his brother the first time Sam had called him jerk. Dean felt that same insane urge now too.

Then Sam was clarifying, asking him what Dean was going to do while his brother was asleep. Honestly he hadn’t thought that far ahead. It wasn’t like he could do much with his leg messed up the way it was. Maybe he would roll around in the office chair and try the key card on a few of the locked doors, see what was there. Maybe he would try calling Cas, see if the angel was still out there and listening, and get some answers. But mostly he’d probably just sit here and watch Sam sleep. As creepy as that sounded he just felt this need to make sure that his brother kept breathing after he closed his eyes. After what they’d been through, could anyone blame him?

“I’m not going anywhere.” Dean promised, his lips quirking up into a grin before adding. “Bitch.”

* * *

“Good.” Sam grinned, before he stretched himself out and lay down on the couch. It was way too small for his tall frame and Sam couldn’t stretch out or lay flat. But Sam shifted around a few times and settled with his legs curled up on the couch and his head resting on the arm rest. He shoved one of the throw pillows under his neck and smooshed it into a more comfortable shape. If he rolled over at all while he was asleep he was going to roll onto the floor but Sam had learnt a long time ago that beggars can’t be choosers.

Sam can remember when he had been a kid and he and Dean had slept together on couches like this when their dad would come home and Dean would get them curled up on the couch while Dad was in the shower so that John would have to sleep on the single bed in the room. Sometimes Sam missed the simpler days like that. Before Dean had started hunting and it was just the two of them.

They could curl up together and Dean would kiss him on the forehead. Sometimes Dean would even sing him to sleep but Dean hadn’t done that for more years than Sam could count. They hadn’t even really shared a bed like they had as kids since Sam had gone to Stanford.

“Do you think the whole world is like it is outside or do you…” Sam asked sleepily as a yawn made its way out in the middle of the question. “think that this just happened here in Detroit?”

Sam wanted to know if it was just what they had seen of Detroit or if this went everywhere. Where was Bobby? Or Cas? He had no memory of anything that had happened since he had said yes to Lucifer and it scared him to think of how much destruction he had wrought on the world.

* * *

Dean watched silent as Sam made himself comfortable on the couch. Well, as comfortable as he could given that his brother was more than a foot longer than the sofa. The sight was so damned familiar it made his heart ache a little even as it comforted him. If things could still feel so familiar after all that had happened then it couldn’t be too bleak right? He still had his brother, Sam was safe, for now, and wasn’t that all that had ever really mattered?

“I don’t know. I hope it’s not all like this.” Dean replied, deciding not to point out how it was a little creepy that Sam’s soft question mirrored Dean’s thoughts not moments ago. “I guess we’ll find out one way or another.”

Dean really wished he could give Sam some answers but he had none. He wished he could be the big brother he’d once been to Sam. The one who knew every answer to his little brother’s every question simply because he was older more experienced. Even if he had to make half the shit up Sam would believe him anyway. He wished he could promise his brother that everything would be all right and Sam would believe him. But they weren’t kids anymore.

“Get some sleep, Sammy.” 

* * *

Sam watched Dean for a moment as his brother clearly thought about the answer to the question. Dean’s answer was that he didn’t know but he hoped that it wasn’t all like this. “Yeah. Me too.”

He tucked his hand up under his jaw and shifted again. It probably would be more comfortable to shove the cushions onto the floor but it was too late now. Sam could already feel that drifty feeling as his body started to catch on to the fact of just how tired he was. He blinked a few times watching his brother and then Sam finally closed his eyes.

All he could do was hope he didn’t dream. Sam didn’t want to think about what had happened. The things that had been done to him and his brother by Lucifer. If his dreams reverberated with the sound of Dean screaming he wasn’t going to get much rest. So Sam tried to think of something else. Tried to find something tangible in his head that he could hold onto so that he didn’t dream about the dark shit that lurked on the edges of his consciousness.

Instead Sam found himself thinking about Bobby and Castiel. He wondered where they were. If Bobby was holed up in his panic room. Bobby wouldn’t be able to out run those things outside in his wheel chair. He wondered if he could pray for Castiel but neither of them had seen him since they had tried to save Adam. Dean still held out hope that the angel would show up somewhere but it had been a month since they had seen him last. God knew how much time had passed since then. How long He was Lucifer’s vessel for. It couldn’t have been that long because Dean didn’t look any older. But It could have been years for all Sam knew.

Sam opened his eyes blinking. He couldn’t sleep with his thoughts running circles like that. “Dean? Do you think… you think Bobby and Cas are okay?” Sam asked, he hoped they were but asking might help take his mind of it so he can sleep.

* * *

Dean watched his brother close his eyes and for a few moments it seemed like Sam was actually going to get some sleep. He was grateful for that. If exhaustion was what had made his brother collapse on the stairs then it was obvious that Sam needed a good nights sleep. Hell, maybe a few good days worth of sleep too. Dean was willing to do anything to make sure that his brother got the rest he needed. Even if he had to watch over the younger man every moment Sam’s eyes were closed to make sure no bad dreams plagued his brother.

It reminded him of when they were kids. A lot of times he and Sam had to share a bed anyway. Since motel rooms typically only came with two queen beds often their father would sleep in one and he and Sam would share the other. Unless there was a couch, or they got an extra cot, or the rare times they stayed somewhere he and Sam actually got separate rooms.

When they were younger Sam never seemed to sleep very well in his own bed. Often Dean would find himself waking in the middle of the night to a little bundle burrowing his way into his sheets. His little brother clinging to him and mumbling about nightmares. Dean would wrap his arms around his brother and promise him nothing would ever hurt him. That he would stay awake until Sam fell asleep and no matter how long it took Dean always kept his promise. Sometimes he would stay up the rest of the night just to make certain that Sam wouldn’t wake up from a nightmare. Running his fingers gently through his brother’s hair in a soft petting motion and sometimes even singing to him.

Dean felt his fingers twitch with the insane urge to do that now. To run his fingers through Sam’s hair that he was sure would still feel as soft as it ever did even if it was unwashed and damp with sweat. To promise his brother without words that he would be safe, Dean would keep him safe, that he wouldn’t let anything hurt Sam.

It seemed like a long time since Dean had been able to keep that promise…

Sam suddenly opening his eyes broke the almost daze Dean had fallen into while watching the younger man. His hand curling into a fist as though to squash the urge he hadn’t felt in years.

He wondered briefly if Sam actually expected him to know the answer to his question or if it was merely rhetorical. Or if Sam simply wanted some kind of reassurance even if it was a false one. Dean forced himself to smile even though he didn’t really feel it. It didn’t matter. It wasn’t for his benefit.

“Course they are. You know Bobby, he’s harder to kill than a New York cockroach on steroids. And Cas… I was actually thinking we might try to contact Cas tomorrow. I mean, he’s an angel and all, he has to know what’s been going down, right?”

* * *

Sam stared directly at Dean, grateful that his brother had been true to his word and stayed put even if it only had been a couple seconds since he had closed his eyes. He couldn’t help the smile that crossed his face when Dean compared Bobby to a New York cockroach. Sam could almost imagine Bobby calling them Idjits and telling them off for scaring him. It was certainly a more settling image than what had been running through his mind earlier.

As for Castiel that was a different matter entirely. It would be kind of nice to think that if this really was the apocalypse that Castiel got his wings back. But then his brain just wasn’t really playing all that nice today.

What if Castiel didn’t get his wings back and was lying in a ditch somewhere? Or worse what if he got his wings back but was no longer one of the good guys anymore. Not that it really mattered. Team Free Will had died the moment that Sam had said yes.

Sam closed his eyes again, hoping that this time the oblivion of sleep wouldn’t be chased off by random thoughts about what was going on outside. Dean’s suggestion of calling Castiel seemed like a good one. One way or another it would answer at least one question and if Castiel did show up perhaps he could help them fill in the gaps of what had happened.

“I think that’s a good idea Dean.” Sam replied not opening his eyes to see what his brother was thinking. He had to push away the thought of what it would mean if Cas didn’t show up. Dean had told him what had happened in that future where He had said yes and Dean and Cas had been left alone with no angels to protect them anymore. Maybe that’s what this was. The world with no angel’s to watch over it only the reality version as opposed to the _Zachariah is screwing with you_ version that Dean saw.

* * *

Dean nodded at Sam’s reply even though his brother’s eyes were closed and the younger man couldn’t see it. He wondered if they were both being optimistic fools. If Cas didn’t answer them… then their options were going to dwindle quickly. But really, what other choice did they have?

He watched as his brother fell asleep and for a long time afterwards. But when he realized he’d been counting the younger man’s breaths, and feeling kind of stalker-ish for doing so, Dean decided to make himself useful.

Pushing the chair along with his good leg, so he didn’t have to walk, Dean rolled back over to the cupboards and started going through them in more detail. Opening each one and searching for anything they could use.

Cheap disposable knives and forks were probably useless. God, what he wouldn’t give for a good old fashioned butcher knife or something, but finding one here was probably a long shot. One cupboard he found a box of Strawberry Poptarts and grabbed a packet for himself, which he started to munch on as he worked. In one drawer he found a stash of batteries and a cheap plastic flashlight which he had a feeling would be worth more than gold in the coming days.

For an office lounge area it was actually pretty well stocked. Probably because it was a big shot fancy office. Once he’d finished looking through all the cupboards and drawers Dean decided it couldn’t hurt to check out the rest of the office. He wasn’t going to leave the floor but he was curious what might be in some of those executive offices.

So, fishing the card key out of his pocket, Dean stood slowly. Wincing as he put weight on his leg but even limping he’d still be able to move faster than rolling around on the chair. Turning the flashlight on and casting one last look back at his sleeping brother Dean ventured out into the office area.

He didn’t bother searching any of the cubicles yet, instead going for the most impressive looking office door. One of the big bosses no doubt. The key card opened the door and Dean whistled as he pushed the door open and the dim light of the flashlight illuminated the expensive looking space. Plush carpets. Artwork that looked very real, and very expensive. Huge ornate desk. A fish tank… all the fish were dead, Dean noticed with a slight frown. Something behind the desk made his frown disappear however to be replaced by a pleased grin.

“Now we’re talking.” Dean said to no one as he limped over to the bar area filled with expensive looking decanters filled with different shades of amber liquid. Taking the top of one of the glass bottles Dean sniffed the liquor and sighed pleasantly. Definitely smelled like money. Not even bothering with a glass Dean took a long swig from the bottle. 

* * *

Sam was beginning to doubt that he would be able to get to sleep. But he figured at least if he just lay there with his eyes closed for a while it might rest him up a bit. It should also at least help lessen the headache that was working its way into a drumming symphony behind his forehead. Maybe the aspirin would kick in better if he just lay still and kept his eyes shut.

As Sam lay there he worked on trying to ignore the noises Dean was making as he rummaged through the cupboards or whatever it was that Dean was doing. Sam refused to open his eyes and look to confirm that was what the noise was. Sam also figured he couldn’t ask dean to be quiet because it wasn’t like Dean was going to lay down and try to sleep too. Dean was going to keep watch. That was what Dean did, he looked out for his little brother. It made Sam feel safe to know that was what Dean was doing.

So instead Sam tried not to concentrate on anything. To just will his body to go to sleep. He could feel his limbs getting heavy. Like parts of him starting at his feet and working up his body were all going to sleep one by one. But by the time the sleepy feeling reached his head he got a cramp and had to shift. He couldn’t sleep with his head up on the armrest like that anyway. He would wake up with a crick in his neck if he did. So Sam rolled over tucking his head into the corner and curling his legs up more. His feet hanging of the edge but he felt more comfortable like that anyway.

Sam’s thoughts kept whirling around in his head making a kaleidoscope of images that made him feel like he might be sick again. Then he was falling, head first into a deep black nothingness that whispered to him. He couldn’t make out what the whispering was saying. A thousand voices of nothing curling through his brain and Sam is fairly certain that if he knew what they were whispering he might go insane from it.

There were eyes in the darkness, hate filled and accusing. Arms wrapped around his bare shoulders as someone whispered in his ear. He still couldn’t make out what they were saying but he could feel the warmth of their breath every time they breathed across his flesh. Sam shifted trying to get away and he realized he was standing in front of a mirror. Its surface was cracked but Sam could still make out his reflection. His head tilted slightly to the side as he looked at himself in the mirror.

The reflection smiled even though Sam knew that he himself wasn’t. Sam could hear something behind him then, something so terrible that it made his heart race and his palms sweaty. He was afraid to turn around to see what the thing was that was raising the short hairs on the back of his neck. His reflection in the mirror grinning at him with a defiant look and Sam knew if he turned around the thing in the mirror that looked like him would eat him. But then the thing behind him screamed out in agony. Such a pain filled sound and Sam had to turn because he knew that voice anywhere.

“Dean!”


	2. Chapter 2

The potent liquor combined with the painkillers he'd taken earlier finally seemed to be taking the edge off the pain in his leg, something Dean was supremely thankful for. For a while he wandered around the expensive office checking things out.  


  
To his surprise he found that the office had its own large bathroom, complete with a shower and shit. Whoever had owned the office must have been a real big shot. Of course when he tried the knobs all he got for his trouble was a weak stream of water, barely more than a trickle, and an ominous gurgling in the pipes before he twisted the knobs off again. He knew the shower actually working had been a long shot, but Dean was still disappointed. It was amazing the every day "luxuries" you took for granted. Like running water.

Moving back into the main part of the office Dean checked out the windows. It was still dark outside but it was definitely growing lighter. He couldn't see any sign of the creatures that had chased him down and tried to eat him. He wasn't sure if that was a good sign or a bad one. Maybe they'd given up? Or maybe they'd found a way inside the building… Dean didn't particularly like that train of thought but unless they figured out the key card readers and got one of their own he figured he and Sam were still pretty safe for now.

Tired now, Dean sat in the big expensive desk chair and drank a little more. He'd already finished off about half the decanter but there was plenty more left. Besides, it was medicinal. He knew he should probably get back to Sam now. He hadn't planned on being gone long and besides the liquor he hadn't really found anything interesting. As soon as he rested for a bit he'd head back.

Almost as soon as he thought it, that's when he heard the scream. The sound all too familiar and it nearly stopped his heart. The memory of every second, all those days, maybe weeks, of listening to Sam scream in pain while the angels tortured him rushing back all at once.

Less than a second later Dean was out of the chair and running. The expensive glass decanter and liquor shattering on the floor near the desk behind him but he didn't give a shit. He didn't give a fuck about the pain in his leg or how it gave out twice as he ran back to the lounge, simply unable to take the punishment he was putting it through anymore. It only pissed him off, the delay it took to force himself back to his feet, to reach his brother's side.

"Sammy!" Dean shouted as he skidded to a stop inside the lounge room. The room was empty, except for Sam. Nothing was attacking his brother. Nothing except his own memories Dean realized as he watched the younger man twisting around and moaning softly on the couch. It was a wonder Sam hadn't ended up on the floor yet. The small relief Dean felt realizing Sam wasn't in immediate danger was replaced with concern as he rushed to his brother's side.

"Sammy? Hey… it's all right. Wake up. Come on, little brother. Wake up." Dean's voice adopted a far gentler tone as he tried to gently shake the younger man awake. Trying to ease his brother's panic and bring him out of the nightmare in a way that wouldn't get him punched.

* * *

There was blood in his mouth. So much blood. The demon’s working for Lucifer forced his mouth open with some kind of metal gag and then just poured their blood into his mouth until he choked on it. Slit wrists dripping, warm and vile. Sam begged and pleaded between breaths when they let him rest. He knew how addictive that shit was. What it did to him. His’ pleas of “No more…please…No.” fell on deaf ears. They just yanked his head back till he thought it would snap and start pouring again. Pouring till he couldn’t breathe for gagging.

Sometimes he can hear Dean screaming in pain over the sound of the demon’s laughing at him. Over the sound of his own blood pounding behind his temples as he starves himself of oxygen in a desperate attempt not to swallow. It’s worse when Dean calls out to him. It makes him think that maybe Dean can hear him and that would make this worse. Knowing that Dean is hurting and worrying more about Sam than he should himself.

The sound of Dean’s voice woke Sam with a start. He felt sick and disoriented and he reached out twisting his fists in the front of Dean’s shirt as he gasped for air. His vision was blurry with tears and he could feel where they had run down his cheeks as he dreamed. Sam’s eyes darted around the room as he tried to figure out where the fuck he was and whether or not the ghouls of the dream were still there in the room with him.

“Dean?” Sam’s voice trembled as he slid his arms around his brothers shoulders and held onto him. His whole body was trembling and Sam just needed a second to calm the fuck down. Even his breathing was coming in big ragged gasps that trembled and stuttered in his chest. Sam could feel the way his blood felt sluggish in his veins, every muscle and joint in his body ached. Even his head still throbbed if not harder than it had before he had closed his eyes to sleep. Sam knew what that meant, the dream had helped him figure out what the hell was going on and why he felt sick.

He should probably tell Dean that they made him drink demon blood. Dean was the one that was going to have to deal with him when his brain left him and his body tried to tear itself apart to get over the addiction. Or maybe he should tell Dean that he said yes to Lucifer and it was his fault that the world outside was so fucked up. That he had destroyed the world. Well Detroit at any rate. But he couldn’t Dean had been through too much for Sam to burden him with his bullshit.

The smell of hard liquor reached him and Sam frowned. He dragged the heel of his palm over his eyes to wipe away the tears and then leaned back to stare at Dean. His brother still looked like death warmed up. His face pale and there was blood smeared on his left cheek.

“Why do you smell like scotch?” Sam asks a little incredulous. He hadn’t seen Dean find liquor in the kitchenette which meant that his brother had probably gone off to explore while he was asleep. Where had the blood come from… Sam glanced down at Dean’s leg and could see the fresh blood that was seeping through the bandage. “What the fuck dude?”

* * *

Sam wasn’t waking up. Why the fuck wasn’t Sam waking up! Dean shook his brother harder. He didn’t want to hurt Sam but if the younger man didn’t open his eyes he was ready to try smacking him to wake him the fuck up.

“Come on, man. Wake up. Sammy…” Dean repeated, louder now, practically begging and he didn’t care. But Sam didn’t open his eyes. He just kept making soft whimpering choking sounds of pain that broke Dean’s heart.

“God damn it, Sam! Wake up!” He was shouting now, tears burning behind his eyes, feeling as helpless as he had listening to his brother screaming in agony and being able to do absolutely nothing. Then finally, _finally_ , Sam’s eyes snapped open and Dean was so close to crying in relief it wasn’t even funny.

“Thank god…” Dean heard himself say before Sam’s arms suddenly wrapped around him tightly. Trembling… Sam was fucking trembling. Just what the hell had Sam been dreaming about that had left his brother _shaking_ in fear and clinging to him for dear life?

“I’m here, Sammy. It’s alright.” Dean tried to reassure, hugging his brother back and hoping he didn’t sound as hopeless and scared as he felt. Sam needed him to hold it together, damn it. Sam needed him…

It felt like a long time before Sam finally started to release his hold on him. The younger man wiping at his face but it didn’t hide the signs of his tears very well. But before Dean could say anything Sam was asking him why he smelled like liquor and Dean flushed a little in embarrassment and shame.

Dean opened his mouth, but for a moment no sound came out. Then he was following Sam’s gaze down to his leg, which was bleeding again, no big surprise there, and he flushed even more. He released Sam then and started pulling away from the younger man. Well, at least Sam didn’t seem so shaken up anymore.

“I was just checking out the offices, I didn’t go far, then you started screaming…” Dean gave a halfhearted explanation, avoiding Sam’s eyes, and shrugging slightly. He started to get up from where he’d been kneeling on the floor and his leg buckled on him again the second he put weight on it. Dean landed hard, cursing a blue streak. 

* * *

Sam could hear the relief in Dean’s voice and it made him feel a little better. Well as better as he could feel with his head pounding and his mouth feeling like something furry was growing inside it. He could see the look on Dean’s face and he rolled his eyes. Trust his brother to go out drinking at a time like this. Not that he really blamed him, he would have gone exploring while Dean was asleep too.

When Dean fell, Sam climbed slowly of the couch. He felt like he had been running a marathon with a hundred pound weight on his back. His breathing still labored and he didn’t feel any better than he had when he had curled up to sleep. Although now he knew it would just get worse. Every muscle and joint aching and his nerves zinging with phantom pains till his body adjusted to being without the Demon blood.

Bending down, Sam grabbed hold of Dean’s shoulders. Then he heaved his brother up onto the couch with a pained grunt. His hand resting on Dean’s shoulder as Sam frowned at him with concern. “You can’t wonder off man. What if one of those things had gotten in here?” Sam’s voice shifted a little higher as he realized just what could have happened to his brother if one of those things had. “You’re in no condition to fight even one of those things off on your own dude.”

Grabbing the duffle from where he had left it over by the wall, Sam moved down onto his knees. Sitting on the floor in front of Dean, he dug out the first aid kit and put it on the coffee table. There was no way he was going to let his brother bleed to death after all the shit that they have been through. Sam was the one who had said yes and caused this to happen to the world. Those things had come into being because of something he had done and now Dean had hurt himself again because Sam had had a nightmare.

“I’m sorry man, this is all my fault.” Sam mumbled eyes down cast as he lifted Dean’s leg up across his lap and began unwrapping the bandages. His brother had popped the thing open in three places but it wasn’t too bad just little tears he could glue back together fairly easily. Sam was going to have to force his brother to stay of his leg till it healed though. They were going to be stuck in this office building till then. At least there was a lot of food, even if it was just poptarts and by the smell of Dean there was probably a lot of whiskey too.

* * *

Dean grit his teeth in pain when Sam helped him off of the floor, but seeing the strain on his brother’s face, he forced himself to bite back any sound of discomfort getting up caused him. Seeing how exhausted Sam looked made him feel even guiltier for leaving his brother to go exploring. Sam was in worse shape than he was, for crying out loud, he shouldn’t be worrying about him. He sure as hell shouldn’t have to be hauling his heavy ass around either.

He thanked the younger man with a slight nod when Sam settled him on the couch, but he frowned slightly at Sam’s words. Sure, maybe he shouldn’t have wandered off, but not for the reasons Sam was going on about. Yeah, his leg was fucked to shit, but he wasn’t a god damned invalid. He could probably hold his own a lot better than Sam could right now. And if any of those things _did_ get in here, they were fucked, plain and simple. Wouldn’t matter if they were together or not.

Before he could say some choice words about his brother talking to him like a fucking toddler, Sam went to work on his leg and Dean could only wince and grit his teeth again as his brother started undoing the wrappings. He almost missed Sam’s mumbled words they were so soft.

“How the hell is _this_ your fault?.” Dean replied, a little incredulously. Yeah, Sam had sent that big ass pane of glass flying his way, but if he hadn’t Dean would have been stuck on that truck until one of those things got lucky, or they tore it out from under him and then it would be all she wrote. They’d probably be picking their teeth with his bones by now. Dean shuddered a little at the thought.

“Listen, Sam. I know you’re worried and shit, but I’m not a fucking toddler. Its just a scratch and I can handle myself. Its you I’m…” Dean hesitated a little before he forced himself to continue. “Its you I’m worried about, man. You collapsed in the stairwell, and I couldn’t wake you up for a minute there, and the way you were yelling…You gotta tell me the truth, Sam. Are you all right? Or do we need to get out of here and look for a hospital or something?”

* * *

Dean was gritting his teeth and Sam had to rub at the wound to get clean enough edges before he could glue it back together. The scar was going to be nasty but given that Dean wasn't going to bleed to death Sam would take an ugly scar over that any day. He could tell without even looking up that Dean was irritated at him though.

Sam just kept his head down working on one tear at a time. Stopping the bleeding and cleaning it. Then he ran a line of the super glue across the skin. Sam leaned in and blew gently at the spot to encourage the glue to go tacky before he pressed the jagged edges together.

Then Dean asked him how this could be his fault. Sam looked up at him with surprise. How could Dean not think that what was going on outside wasn't his fault. It was so obviously the work of Lucifer that Sam kept expecting to see _Lucifer was here_ graffiti on the buildings in his own written script. If Dean had been close enough for Sam to hear him while they tortured him then, Dean had been close enough to hear Sam. How could Dean not know.

"I know you're not a toddler Dean." Sam snapped before Dean explained that he was worried about him. Sam felt numb and he swallowed, guilt and anger burning in his gut and making him feel sick as he looked away from his brother. Dean shouldn't be worried about him, not when this was obviously Sam's punishment for what he had done. Although he wasn't sure why Dean had been left to suffer with him.

Sam hesitated brow creasing in a line as he ran a hand through his still greasy hair. Dean had asked him for the truth and what was he going to tell him. That he was fine all though he was jonesing for his next hit of demon blood. That he had said yes and Lucifer wore him to the prom and destroyed the world.

"I don't need a hospital Dean." Sam told him with a sigh, rubbing at his forehead at the same time. It was the truth even if it wasn't all of it. "Although finding one isn't a bad idea. We need supplies and what we have here is going to run out eventually." Also it was nowhere near adequate enough if either of them did get seriously hurt. "But neither of us are in any condition to go anywhere for a few days at least."

Last time Sam had to detox it had taken a week. But he had drunk a hell of a lot more blood this time around. He just hoped that he could get through it this time. That Dean could cope… "Dean, I… "Sam frowned, it wasn't something he could keep from Dean for much longer. Especially if the stuff started throwing him around the room or something. "You should probably tie me up or something though… it's … I … Demon blood."

* * *

Dean was really wishing he had that decanter of scotch when Sam went to work on his leg. Though even if he was almost passed out drunk he wasn’t sure it would do anything for the pain at this point. Dean was shaking and panting even before his brother was halfway done. But he still refused to make a sound and voice his pain. Sam was worried enough about him and he shouldn’t be.

He actually smiled a little when Sam snapped at him. His brother sounding a little more like himself when he was pissed off.

Sam’s reassurances that he didn’t need a hospital weren’t very convincing, but his brother was right. If they could find a hospital, even if it was abandoned, they could hopefully find some better supplies. Bandages, antibiotics, painkillers, and shit would be worth their weight in gold in this place. Unfortunately Sam was also right in the fact that neither of them were in any shape to look for one. Not until Sam was feeling better and Dean could walk on his leg without ripping open the wound every time.

Whether they liked it or not, they were stuck here for the time being.

Then Sam started speaking again and the tone of his brother’s voice when he said his name was enough to send a chill down Dean’s spine even before the younger man dropped the bomb. Demon blood… fucking hell… That explained everything and Dean was pissed as hell. Why hadn’t Sam told him before now? And when the hell had he started drinking demon blood again?

“Jesus Christ, Sam…” Dean muttered darkly, remembering the last time Sam had detoxed, it had nearly killed the younger man. How could Sam do this again? He couldn’t even address Sam’s comment about tying him up yet. “Why?”

* * *

Sam felt bad enough without the way that his brother was looking at him. Dean seemed so disappointed and Sam felt devastated like he had let his brother down. Even though he hadn’t drunk the blood by choice. The thing about it that hurt the most though was the fact that Dean would even think he had.

Dean asked him why and Sam screwed up his face, moving back and standing up. He scrubbed his hands against his thighs wishing he was wearing jeans and not these horrible cover alls. It hurt to see his brother looking at him like he had let him down. “How can you even ask me that?” Sam snapped at him.

“You think I did this to myself? I’m not an idiot Dean. I know what that shit can do to me!” Sam yelled. He felt the anger in his belly shift and the light above them flickered casting an eerie light around the room. It didn’t really make a great case for his argument. If anything it just made him feel nauseous.

The light above exploded in a shower of sparks and glass and Sam clenched his arms around his waist and bent forward. Pain shot through his gut and lanced up into his brain. He was fairly certain that he was running on fumes the last of the demon blood in him spent on that one final show. It wasn’t enough to do damage but enough to make him feel like his insides were being torn apart.

Sam slipped to his knees looking up at Dean. “They did this to me, Dean.” Sam’s voice came out small, like he couldn’t get enough air. “While they tortured you they shoved it down my throat till I thought I would drown in it.”

* * *

The expression on Sam’s face made Dean feel like he’d just kicked a wounded puppy or something. Then his brother was snapping at him and anger began to bleed through as well and Dean didn’t know what to feel. He just wanted to know why, god damn it. How could Sam do something like this again? What were his reasons this time? Why the hell did he keep doing this shit even after…

“Sam…” Dean tried to get a word in edgewise, he could see his brother was getting riled up and that wasn’t good in his… condition. But as Sam went on, yelling now, and Dean couldn’t help but stare as the lights above his brother began flickering. There was no power in the building but the lights were going crazy now. Then Dean had to shield his eyes when they suddenly exploded.

“Jesus Christ!” He cursed, but when he opened his eyes again it was to see his brother was on his knees, the pain twisting his features more than just physical.

The demons… they’d forced Sam to drink the blood? While they tortured Sam… while Sam had listened to them torturing him… they had forced him… Dean felt guilt twist in his stomach like a knife.

A moment later Dean was off the couch, not caring about the pain as he knelt in front of his brother and gathered the younger man into his arms. He held Sam as tightly as he dared while tears burned in his eyes for what Sam had went through… and Dean had accused him…

“I’m sorry… so fucking sorry, Sammy… It’ll be ok… we’ll get through this… you’ll be ok, I promise…” He whispered, his voice breaking, and he prayed he wasn’t lying to his brother now. 

* * *

Dean had that look like he still wanted to argue with him right up until Sam told him about what happened while the demons tortured him. Sam hated the fact that he had put that look on his brother’s face. Sam didn’t want to hear his brother say he was sorry. He didn’t want Dean to feel guilty about this. Dean hadn’t done it. Dean was being tortured to but obviously they used a different tactic on his brother.

Sam wanted the whole thing to be over already. The pain in his head just got worse and the world around him seemed to tilt. It was becoming more and more less likely that he was going to wake up and find out that this was just some mystery spot dream or something.

His brother was moving toward him and Sam blinked, wondering how Dean could stand when the world was on the angle that it was on. But Sam couldn’t ask him. His mouth and throat felt like it was stuffed full of cotton.

Dean grabbed hold of him, strong arms wrapping around him and Sam was fairly sure that just that touch alone stopped the world from shifting. Sam grabbed onto Dean, curling his fingers around Dean and burying his head in the curve of his brothers neck. Dean telling him everything’s going to be okay and Sam needed so desperately to believe him.

“I’m sorry… I tried….I tried.” The cotton feeling was gone but Sam was pretty sure his voice sounded off and his lips felt numb. “I couldn’t… they made me…I’m sorry…I never should have said it.”

* * *

Sam seemed to crumble in on himself and Dean wondered worriedly if his brother would even still be upright if he wasn’t holding onto the younger man. His brother clung to him and he practically cradled Sam against him. He kept whispering soft words of reassurance. Repeating over and over that it was going to be all right, and he wasn’t sure if he was trying to convince Sam or himself.

Dean was a hair’s breath away from completely freaking out right now and it was only his worry for his brother that prevented it. He was so fucking scared for Sam… and he didn’t know what to do. So he simply held onto his brother, running his fingers gently through the younger man’s hair, like Sam was a child, and praying that they were going to make it through this.

Sam’s withdrawal symptoms had begun already, Dean was certain of that, but they hadn’t gotten close to being bad yet. If his brother was this… fragile… already… Fuck, what were they going to do? What were they going to do when the sickness started trying to tear Sam apart from the inside out? How were they going to make it? How was Sam…

They had to make it… Sam had to… Dean couldn’t do this alone. He needed Sam with him.

“We’re going to get through this? You hear me, Sammy? Together, man. It’s going to be all right.” Dean whispered, pressing a kiss to his brother’s sweaty brow. His heart breaking all over again when Sam started to apologize and the tears he’d been fighting to hold back spilled down his cheeks freely.

“No, Sam. Don’t apologize. It wasn’t your fault.” Dean reassured, feeling guilt threatening to overwhelm him for accusing Sam of drinking the blood willingly. He should have trusted Sam. But he didn’t understand what Sam meant when he said…

An icy cold feeling suddenly swept though Dean.

“What do you mean, Sam? Said what?” Dean asked, his own voice shaking a little, fearing the answer. Fearing it because they'd tortured Sam just as they’d tortured him… and Dean had broken. While listening to his brother screaming, overwhelmed by physical and mental exhaustion and pain, with the promise that Sam would go free if he just gave in… He’d said yes… 

* * *

His face was wet but Sam just wanted to stay where he was. Dean helped him feel grounded and less like he was falling off the face of the earth. His head still hurt but not so bad. Sam sniffled and he was starting to worry that he was going to tremble to pieces. He just wasn’t sure if the trembling ran through his insides or over his whole body.

Dean was whispering in his ear but there was a buzzing sound like a million flies crawling in his brain and he couldn’t hear what Dean was whispering to him. It had to be good though right. Dean wouldn’t be whispering monster at him after everything they went through. It wasn’t true and Sam had to hold onto the fact that Dean wouldn’t do that.

Sam opened his fists placing his palms against Dean’s chest to push them far enough apart that he could see his brothers face. Dean was crying. His eyes wet with tears and that was Sam’s fault. Dean looked so scared. “S’okay Dean. I won’t let them hurt you any more so don’t cry okay.”

Everything felt so disjointed and far away. Sam was aware that Dean had asked him a question. It was big and important and Sam was having difficulty understanding what the words meant. Like maybe Dean had spoken them into water and they were so thick and slow that Sam couldn’t grasp what was said until the words floated close enough for him to grab onto.

There was a light shining behind Dean’s head and it made things fuzzy But Sam kept looking at his brother. He didn’t want to look at the light. IT was like an on coming train and he was standing on the train tracks while it barreled down at him. Sam couldn’t get his brain to talk to tell Dean to move out of the way of the train.

Suddenly the light was gone and they were back in the little room in the office building and Sam feels a twist of fear so bad that it physically hurts his insides. What if he doesn’t survive this one. What if he dies. He can’t leave Dean alone. Not now. He has to make it up to him. Sam smiled. “We destroyed the world didn’t we.” He asked his voice as manic as he felt .

“Did you see? It must have been one hell of a prom.”

* * *

Instead of answering him Sam was pushing him away, not roughly, but Dean was still reluctant to let his brother go. That cold, almost irrational fear gripping him, and practically choking him. Dean couldn’t decipher the expression on his brother’s face when Sam finally looked at him, but the younger man’s eyes were so glassy he wasn’t sure if Sam was seeing him at all. His brother’s words did nothing whatsoever to reassure him either. Christ… Sam was so out of it…

“Sammy…” Dean whispered, unsure what to say or do. His brother’s almost offhand and innocent question, that they had destroyed the world, hit him like a kick to the gut. He could barely breathe.

Was it true? Had they forced Sam to say yes? Michael and Lucifer… the fucking apocalypse… had it really happened? What they’d seen outside… was the whole world like this? But if it had… then how could he and Sam still be here?

He… he couldn’t deal with that right now. Right now all he cared about was making sure Sam made it through this fucking withdrawal. Nothing else mattered. They’d deal with everything else later. Together. Because Sam was going to make it, damn it.

“Don’t worry about that right now, ok Sammy? Just… lets just get you better, all right? Come on. Lets get you back on the couch.” Dean said and started trying to pull Sam up from the floor. Not an easy task in the least considering his fucked up leg and the fact his brother weighed a ton and wasn’t helping much. But he finally managed to half drag half carry Sam back to the couch, glad the distance was a short one, and got his brother laying down once again.

“Do you want something to drink? Some food?” Dean asked, trying not to sound as scared and hopeless as he felt. 

* * *

Sam wasn’t exactly sure how but he wasn’t in Dean’s arms anymore. Instead he was lying on the couch. He looked up at the ceiling and watched the black clouds billow and writhe across its surface. He blinked and scratched at his chest. He hoped his tattoo was still intact because he didn’t want to have to drink all of them right now. Not when he felt like someone was cutting up his insides.

Dean asked if he wanted food or drink and Sam licked his lips. He felt like he might throw up. So he shook his head even though his throat felt like sandpaper. He watched Dean, even as he eyed the clouds that threatened to engulf them. It occurred to Sam that he had to make sure that Dean’s tattoo wasn’t broken.

Grabbing Dean hard by the arm Sam pulled him closer and twisted so that Dean couldn’t pull away. Then he tugged at his shirts pulling them down to reveal the tattoo. Sam couldn’t be certain but it looked like it was real flames writhing under his brothers skin. Sam let go of his brother’s arm and hesitantly ran his fingers across the ink mark. He breathed a sigh of relief when it seemed solid and real enough.

“Shhh. No more screaming.” Sam whispers before he raised his head and looked Dean square in the eye. There is blood falling from Dean's mouth in slow trickling droplets and Sam stares for a moment mesmerized. Then he lifts his hand. fingers traveling up to catch on Dean’s bottom lip and trace the line of red as Sam just stares. Dean has the most beautiful lips Sam has ever seen, even as they whisper obscenities and call him a monster and a freak. Sam leans in and presses his own lips to Dean’s, wondering if he can suck the taste of blood from them.

Dean doesn’t taste like blood though. He tastes bitter sweet, like Molasses and Ash. It makes Sam cry. Dean can’t know that he went to the prom without him. Dean can’t know how much Sam had prayed for it all to be over. Sam is still whispering his secrets when he lays back down onto the couch and closes his eyes.

* * *

Dean wasn’t all that surprised when Sam refused the offer for food and water. The younger man’s skin that pasty pale greenish tint to it which told him that he might want to search for a bucket of some kind in case his brother tossed his cookies. He’d been grasping at straws anyway, not sure what to do to help Sam but wanting, needing, to do _something_.

Sam would pull through this. His brother was strong. He had to… Dean kept telling himself over and over. Ignoring the voice in the back of his mind that told him that this was only the beginning, it was going to get so much worse, and if his brother was this bad off already… Dean silenced that voice with a ruthless mental curse.

His brother suddenly grabbing his arm in a vice like grip and yanking him closer took Dean a little by surprise. He wasn’t sure if he was more surprised by the strength of the grip on his arm or the desperation in his brother’s eyes. But not wanting to upset Sam further Dean bit back the curse that wanted to escape even as his brother’s fingers dug bruises into his arm.

“Sam? Sammy? What’s wrong, man?” Dean asked as he looked into Sam’s eyes that seemed both far away and intensely focused on him. It was a… weird… combination. It only got weirder as Sam was suddenly yanking down his shirt, exposing his chest, then… running his fingers over his skin in an almost caress.

Dean blinked, a slight flush rushing to his cheeks in spite of himself. Something in Sam’s eyes…

“Sam, what are you doing?” Dean asked, even though he wasn’t sure Sam was hearing him right now. Maybe it was more for himself than for Sam. A way to keep himself from losing it because Sam needed him to hold it together, damn it. “You’re going to be ok, Sammy…”

He tried to sooth the younger man but instead Sam seemed to be trying to comfort him. From what, Dean wasn’t sure. Maybe Sam was having flashbacks from when they were tortured? But then his brother was looking him right in the eye, laser focused, and Dean just froze. Sam’s hand lifted from his chest and Dean didn’t even have a chance to draw a breath of relief before those fingers were tracing his lips. He tried to breathe, but he couldn’t. He was completely frozen. His breath caught in his throat like jagged glass and his eyes wide. Only growing wider when Sam suddenly leaned in and… kissed him.

No… Sam couldn’t be kissing him. It had to be… something else. Some other reason his brother’s lips were pressed against his own and Sam was… licking them…

Dean was still frozen when Sam finally pulled away from him and laid back down. Whispering things he wasn’t sure would make any sense even if Dean could hear most of it. Dean stared at Sam, his brain feeling like it had short circuited in the last few minutes. When Sam had…

Dean shook his head slowly. His hand lifting to his own lips and hovering over them as though he was afraid to touch them. They felt like they were burning. His whole face felt like it was burning he was so flushed and flustered. Sam wasn’t much better off. His skin still pale for the most part but there was definitely a growing flush to his face. Dean frowned in concern, his hand reaching out to his brother’s face and he felt the heat coming off the younger man even before he laid his hand against Sam’s forehead. His brother was burning up. Fever.

He shook himself from his shell-shocked state and forced himself to move. Going to the fridge and getting a bottle of water then searching through the drawers until he found a towel. Dean returned to his brother’s side, wet the cloth, and started wiping Sam’s face with it. Even though the water wasn’t all that cool and probably wasn’t doing any good he had to do something.

Sam was sick. He had a fever. Probably delirious. His brother had no idea what he was doing. Probably wouldn’t even remember it… and Dean promised himself he would forget it as well. It never happened. He wouldn’t even tease Sam about it once he was better. Once he was better…

Dean clung to that thought desperately. 

* * *

Everything seemed to bleed together to the point where Sam wanted to just close his eyes and shut it all out but even the blackness behind his eyelids hurt to look at. So instead Sam kept his eyes on Dean. Dean was the only thing in the room that didn’t seem like it was made of glass and if he looked at it, it would shatter. He had to keep a level head for Dean’s sake.

“You think I’m a freak.” Sam muttered under his breath. He could see it in Dean’s eyes. The way his brother was looking at him. He’d seen that look so many times and it felt like something sharp inside his chest. Dean had called him monster before and Sam knew that deep down that was what his brother thought of him.

It made Sam wonder if it was all just a matter of letting Dean cut into him. Dean could probably open him up and peel back the layers to find the monster. His brother knew all about monsters. That was how he knew that Sam was one. Because he was one too. Lucifer had shown him some of the things Dean did in the pit. The thing’s that Dean had enjoyed doing in the pit.

Sam shifted restlessly on the couch. The stupid thing just not long enough for his head and his legs at the same time. Like that Dr Suess book with the man in bed. He wondered if he had killed everything except for him and Dean. There certainly wouldn’t be a cow or a mouse coming to join him in his little bed if they had.

Dean had a knife in his hand and he moved toward him making to slice over his face. Sam startled grabbing Dean’s arm in a tight grip. He stared at Dean eyes wide and his heart was racing so hard against his chest that it made his ribs hurt. But when his eyes focused properly Dean wasn’t holding the knife that Sam had seen but a cloth.

Sam closes his eyes and lets Dean go again. Letting his brother run the damp cloth over his face. It feels good. Cooler than he feels and Sam lets out a sigh. Closing his eyes. 

* * *

Sam suddenly grabbing his arm before Dean could touch him surprised him more than a little. But what surprised him even more was the look in his brother’s eyes. Wide and fearful like… he thought Dean was going to hurt him.

“Sammy? What’s wrong?” He asked, but he didn’t really expect Sam to answer him. Dean had to remind himself that Sam didn’t know what he was doing. That it wasn’t his fault. Whatever Sam did, or said, he shouldn’t take it personally. Sam wasn’t afraid of _him_ he just didn’t know what was going on.

Slowly the fear in his brother’s eyes bled away and the younger man started to relax and released Dean’s arm. Taking Sam’s actions as permission to continue Dean offered his brother a faint reassuring smile that he didn’t really feel as he started to wipe down Sam’s face with the cloth.

“It’s ok, Sam. You’re going to be ok.” Dean repeated, feeling like a liar but he didn’t know what else to do.

What would he do if Sam started getting violent while he was detoxing? Sam had already proved he could be pretty damned unpredictable. What if Sam tried to hurt himself? Maybe Dean should try to tie him down or something, but it wasn’t like they actually had any ropes and he didn’t want to leave Sam alone even for a minute to go look for something. What if he tied Sam down and it only made the younger man panic more?

Dean didn’t want to risk that but he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to control Sam anymore either. Sam didn’t seem to be at all there anymore, and if he couldn’t get through to his brother…

“Come on, Sammy. Give me a sign here.” Dean practically begged. 

* * *

It’s hard to tell the difference between what is a dream and what’s real. Sam is fairly certain that Ruby isn’t really there. That she isn’t dripping blood into his mouth while she laughed. Sam is also pretty certain that his brother who is still sitting on the floor next to him wouldn’t just sit there and let her do it. Not to mention that fact that she’s dead. Dean killed her after she had tricked him into killing Lilith and letting Lucifer out of the cage. His brother tells him that he is going to be okay and Sam would laugh at that if he wasn’t hoping it would be true.

“It’s my fault.” Sam whispered around the blood in his mouth. If he had listened to Dean when he told him not to listen to Ruby. Or when he had told him to stop drinking the blood. Or hell any other time he had ignored Dean’s advice and it had blown up in his face. “It’s all my fault.

Sam closed his eyes. He didn’t want to watch as the blood drained out of the wound in Ruby’s belly and ran down over Dean’s face. But having his eyes closed was worse. He could hear something skittering, the chattering of teeth and the sound of sharp things scraping over the floor. If he listened hard enough Sam thought he could hear the sound of electronic keys being pressed and a door his open. That had to be in his head right.

He could see the clawed thing from outside as it made its way down the corridor toward them but he couldn’t call out. Ruby was sitting on his chest holding him down and her hand over his mouth. “watch lover this is going to be so awesome.”

Eyes flicking from the thing to Dean and back again, Sam looked imploringly at Dean begging him to look. Blood dripping from the things claws and Dean just sat there. His back to the thing as he stared at Sam. The look on his face was one of worry and concern.

Sam clawed at the hand over his mouth and screamed “Dean behind you!” But Dean didn’t turn around. It was like he didn’t even hear him. Maybe he didn’t. But how could Dean not hear the scrape of those claws across the linoleum floor.

Finally Sam managed to throw off Ruby and he moved slamming Dean down against the floor and putting himself between his brother and the monster. Sam picked up the blade from the guillotine he had salvaged earlier and swung it at the things head. “You stay the fuck away from us.”

* * *

Dean sat on the floor beside the couch, gently wiping down his brother’s face with the lukewarm cloth. Watching as the younger man slipped in and out of consciousness. Feeling utterly helpless as Sam slipped in and out of fevered dreams, mumbling incoherently most of the time, and there was not a damned thing he could do about it. Even the water wasn’t doing much good at keeping the younger man’s temperature down but Dean didn’t stop because he knew if he did he’d feel even more useless and helpless than he did now.

“You’re gonna be ok, Sammy.” Dean would whisper every once in a while. Feeling like an utter liar every time he said it. But what the hell else was he supposed to do or say? He refused to consider the possibility that he was watching his brother dying right in front of his eyes.

He wasn’t sure how long he stayed by Sam’s side, a few hours at least. Long enough for night to give way to morning. Dean was almost surprised when he looked up to realize that a dull gray light was starting to spill through the office windows. He wouldn’t have been surprised if the sun never came up again and there was only darkness left in the world.

Glancing at his brother, figuring the young man was sleeping fitfully again, Dean slowly pushed himself off the floor and stretched his tired muscles. His leg didn’t feel any better than it had last night but he managed to put a little bit of weight on it at least as he limped over to the windows to look outside. It had been too dark last night to see much of anything. Now Dean wished he hadn’t looked outside now.

If things outside had looked bad in the dark they looked a hundred times worse in the light of day. Now the true extent of the destruction surrounding them could be seen. Crumbling buildings as far as he could see. Not one structure seemed fully intact. Most were nothing more than piles of rubble. Then he saw something that made his knees nearly fold beneath him and he had to reach out and brace a hand against the cool glass of the window to steady himself.

It was… a crater. That was the only way to describe it. A huge hole in the earth like a bomb had gone off or a meteor had fallen, incinerating everything around it for miles. The only reason Dean could even see it from this far away was because everything around it had been reduced to ash or rubble. The further away from the… hole… the more intact the structures became. Where he and Sam were now it was only a few miles away from the worst of the destruction.

Was that where… Michael and Lucifer’s showdown? Or was it just one of the ‘punches’ one of them had thrown at the other gone astray?

Dean closed his eyes, feeling like he was going to be sick. But they snapped open again when he heard Sam making noise from the couch. Realizing his brother was awake again Dean turned away from the window and made his way back to the younger man’s side as quickly as he could.

“It’s ok, Sam. I’m here…” Dean tried to reassure only to have the younger man shout at him. He froze. Startled. And Dean didn’t even have time to turn around to see what his brother was shouting about. The younger man moving faster than Dean would have thought possible in his condition as Sam tackled him to the floor.

What the fuck?!

Dean twisted his head around. Trying to see what was panicking his brother. Though he was pretty sure it was all in the younger man’s head they couldn’t be too careful. But as he thought nothing was there. That didn’t seem to matter to Sam though because the younger man had picked up the broken paper cutter arm with the dull blade and…

He finally broke from his paralysis when Dean realized Sam meant to use the damned thing on _him_! He barely managed to roll out of the way as the thing came down, almost embedding itself into the floor where his head had previously been seconds ago. Dean reacted on instinct then. He didn’t want to hurt Sam but he sure as hell couldn’t let his brother decapitate him either.

Before Sam could recover from his missed blow Dean grabbed the younger man’s arm and kicked his brother in the side. Throwing the other man off balance enough that Dean was able to twist Sam’s arm and pull Sam down to the floor while forcing him to release his weapon. The paper cutter went skidding across the linoleum floor as Sam hit the ground hard. Dean winced a little but that didn’t stop him from rolling and shoving his brother onto his back. Now kneeling over the younger man Dean used his own weight to hold Sam down. Pinning Sam’s legs with his own and grabbing his brother’s wrists and holding them above the younger man’s head.

“Sammy! It’s me. Sam!” Dean shouted, panting hard, as he stared down into the younger man’s flushed features. Not sure how coherent Sam was or what the hell the other man was seeing right now, he wasn’t taking any chances. 

* * *

The creature was so fast. No wonder they got Dean and cut his leg like that. Sam had no chance of beating this thing. His head still pounded like a drum and his insides were twisted with knifes. But that wasn’t going to stop him from doing what he could to protect his brother. Dean was injured and Sam knew he couldn’t move as fast as this thing could. He swung the blade of the guillotine so hard that it jarred his wrist when it impacted with a satisfying squelch and drove the things head into the floor.

But before Sam could check that Dean was alright there were more of them. One grabbing him around the arm and another scratching sharp claws across his side. Sam cried out when they tumbled him to the ground. The blade twisting out of his grip. Panic and bile churning in his stomach as he kicked and punched at the things. He had to protect Dean. His brother had given so much for him Sam, he was willing to do the same for Dean.

He glanced where Dean had fallen when he knocked him out of the way. His brother bleeding from the gash in his leg. There was no way he could expect Dean to be able to run for safety with his leg like that. Ruby leans in close to Dean and presses her bloody lips to Dean’s both of them smirking at him. Like he was only now being let in on some joke between them.

_“Sammy! It’s me. Sam!”_

The sound of Dean’s voice coming from above him and not the Dean that was making out with Ruby startled him. Sam spun his head back to look at the creature that was talking to him in his brothers voice only it was Dean. The creature was completely gone. Sam stilled his brow crinkling as he looked at his brother. “Dean?”

Sam turned his head glancing to his left where Dean had been making out with Ruby not a second before. Only now there was nothing there. A quick glance around the room also showed him that the creatures were all gone now too. Sam frowned as he looked back at his brother. His hands closing around his arms to make sure he was solid and real and there. “Dean?”

* * *

Time seemed to slow down to a crawl as Dean waited, hoped, prayed, that his brother would snap out of it. What if Sam didn’t come back to reality? What if he kept trying to fight him? Or worse, what if Sam tried to hurt himself? Dean’s heart beat so hard in his chest it hurt as he watched his brother looking around the room wildly. Wondering what the hell Sam was seeing. Wondering what he would do if his brother didn’t snap out of it.

But then Sam was looking at him. Not through him, but _at_ him. And when Sam said his name Dean let out a breath he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding. Feeling his throat tighten with so much emotion it made it hard to breathe much less speak.

“Yeah… it’s me, Sammy. It’s me.” He replied gently, though he didn’t release his hold on Sam’s wrists just yet. He wasn’t all that confident that Sam was really all there yet, and wouldn’t try to break his head open with a paper cutter arm again.

“You with me, bro?”

* * *

Sam blinked in an effort to try and get Dean to come into focus properly. His brother was holding him down and Sam had absolutely no idea why. He calmed down and sighed because his heart was still hammering away in his chest and in his head. Dean had a look on his face that made Sam feel more scared than he had been fighting that thing. Sam wasn’t exactly sure why but he knew he never wanted his brother to look like that again.

Dean confirmed it was in fact him and Sam sighed with relief looking around the room again to make sure that they were safe. Other than the fact they were in a small darkened kitchenette with couches and a table nothing seemed out of the ordinary. But then again the creature had to have gone somewhere.

“Did I get it?” he asked licking his lips as he did so. God he felt so very thirsty. He blinked as he looked back at Dean. His brother asking him if he was with him and Sam glanced up at where Dean’s fingers were still around his wrist. He wasn’t sure if he was or not. He felt like he was. Sam could certainly feel the weight of Dean where he was pinning him to the floor with his weight.

Sam bit his own bottom lip as he stared at Dean. “I don’t… am I?” Sam wasn’t really sure of anything anymore. Someone kept whispering in his ear but Sam couldn’t make out any of the words when he kept his eyes on Dean. “Don’t let go.”

* * *

“Did you…” Dean sighed. “Yeah… you got it.”

He wasn’t sure what else to say. Trying to explain probably wouldn’t help anything. It would probably only upset Sam more knowing that he’d almost killed him just now. At least Sam seemed to be mostly here with him now and not locked in some kind of fever induced nightmare.

Sam’s next question, the fear, the confusion, the hope in those few syllables nearly broke Dean’s heart.

“You’re right here. You’re with me. Not gonna let you go, little brother.” Dean confirmed with all the conviction he could muster. “Come on. Lets get you back on the couch, ok?”

With that Dean finally loosened his hold on the younger man and slid off of Sam, but he did so slowly, just in case his brother spontaneously turned violent again. Getting Sam back on the sofa proved to be quite a challenge however. His brother was almost a dead weight, uncoordinated and no help at all. Dean was running on fumes and his balance and leverage was almost non-existent thanks to his bum leg.

But he finally managed to haul the younger man back onto the sofa, even if he was panting hard and sweating almost as much as Sam when it was finally done.

“I’m right here, Sammy. I’m gonna get you some more water, ok?” He told the young man, running his fingers gently through his brother’s hair, pushing back the sweat soaked bangs tenderly. Then he got up and limped over to the stale fridge, grabbing a bottle of water for Sam.

While he was over there he made a decision and he also opened up the drawer where he’d found some towels before. Then he made a trip as quickly as possible to one of the nearest cubicles nearest the office lounge area. He found a fax machine plugged into the wall and yanked its telephone cord from the wall. He saw Sam hadn’t moved when Dean returned, something he was immensely grateful for, and he knelt down beside the couch where his brother was laying.

Taking the new towel Dean ripped it into a few strips and started wrapping it around his brother's wrists. He kept talking to Sam, both to comfort and distract him from what Dean was doing. Once the towels were in place, so his brother wouldn’t chafe or injure his wrists with the cord Dean was about to tie around them, Dean started to do just that. He hated to do it, but he needed to. Sam could have killed him just now. What would happen if Sam came out of this to find he’d broken his brother’s skull open with a paper cutter?

Sam didn’t resist, which Dean was grateful for. He wasn’t sure his brother even realized what was happening. Once he was done securing his brother’s wrists, Dean debated whether to do the same to his ankles. It would leave his brother practically defenseless, but if Sam ran there would be no way for Dean to catch him in his current condition. So Dean tied Sam’s legs.

“Ok, Sammy. Do you want something to drink?” Dean asked once he was finished. Picking up the water bottle, opening it, and holding it to his brother’s mouth with one hand, while cradling the back of the younger man’s head with his other. 

* * *

Dean helped him off the floor and took him back to the couch. Or at least that was what he thought was happening. The way his brain seemed to rattle around in his head it was possible that he was floating to the moon on a rainbow unicorn for all he really knew. The only thing that Sam was completely and entirely certain about was that Dean had his arm around him as he led him to the couch.

He nods when his brother tells him he is going to get him some water. Sam doesn’t really want to be depending on his brother like he’s three again. Nor does he really want to let Dean go, the noises in his head don’t seem so bad when Dean is right there. Dean stood and Sam just stared blankly, not really paying attention to what was happening in the room.

Dean walked through Ruby where she stood holding out her bleeding wrist to him. She disappeared in a puff of red smoke and Sam coughed when he tried to laugh with relief that Dean was real and she wasn’t. His brother was really helping him get his grip on reality. At least that was until Dean walked out of the room. Sam froze, ignoring the voice of Lucifer’s vessel, what was the guy’s name again… Nick. Nick was telling him what they were doing to Dean in the other room and Sam closed his eyes to block out the sound of his brothers screams.

When Dean came back Sam was drenched in sweat and his chest trembled with each shuddering breath. “Dean…is that… is that you?” He asked not sure the person kneeling beside him was actually Dean. But then his brother started talking to him and Sam knew that it had to be. All the other voices quieted slightly and Sam chewed on his bottom lip as Dean talked to him. It was fairly obvious that Dean was planning to tie him up. But Sam figured it was probably for the best.

He held his wrists out for Dean to wrap the towel strips around them. “Do you think… Did we do this? I didn’t want to, I just wanted it to stop.” Sam whispered while Dean bound his wrists with what looked like the power cable from some random piece of office equipment. “I’m sorry Dean.”

Sam didn’t like the way that his brother’s eyebrows knit together. It was the look he wore when he was worried about something. Sam was pretty sure it was his fault.

He coughed again choking on whatever was tickling in his throat until he could only gasp for air. Then Dean was offering him water. His hand curling around the back of Sam’s head and Sam blinks. Leaning forward enough to drink from the bottle held to his lips. He can remember this. His big brother looking after him when he was sick. He had fond memories of such moments. The water was cool and he drank until he needed air. The water sloshing slightly over the sides of his mouth when he closes it and looks at Dean, blinking to tell him he is finished.

* * *

“That’s it. Just take it slow.” Dean said softly, watching his brother carefully as he drank from the bottle, making sure he didn’t give his brother too much. He decided to take it as a good sign that Sam was able to finish off half the bottle before letting him know wordlessly that he was finished.

Dean set the bottle aside and brushed the corners of Sam’s mouth with his fingers to get rid of the excess water. Sam looked up at him so innocently. It was like his brother was a child all over again and it nearly broke his heart. Dean gave the younger man what he hoped was an encouraging smile.

“There now, feel better?” He asked gently, keenly aware that he hadn’t answered any of Sam’s questions. Honestly he didn’t know what to say. It was pretty obvious that they were responsible for the mess they’d seen outside. There was little doubt in Dean’s mind what his brother was trying to tell him. That he’d said ‘yes’ to Lucifer just as Dean had said ‘yes’ to Michael. What they’d seen outside… It must have been the result.

The fucking apocalypse. The end of the fucking world. Even after all he’d seen it was still hard to believe.

But he didn’t want to tell Sam that. Not now. He didn’t want to upset his brother even more. He needed Sam calm. If Sam was agitated it would only make things worse, and they were already pretty fucking bad. He needed to help Sam get through this. Nothing else was important right now.

Dean made a decision.

“Hey Sammy, can you sit up a little?” He asked, helping Sam to lean forward until there was enough room, and Dean sat in the vacated space. It was more than a little tight maneuvering, it wasn’t all the big of a couch after all. But he finally managed to get himself situated leaning against the arm of the chair, his legs on either side of the younger man, and his brother resting back against his chest. Dean wrapped his arms around Sam and held him tightly.

“How’s that?” 

* * *

“Too many voices,” Sam admitted with a shake of his head when his brother asked him if he was feeling better. His head felt thick and full of soup and it hurt to think but he didn’t think he could explain the sensation to Dean. He was painfully aware of the way his own heart beat a clamorous pounding through his veins and even having drunk most of the water offered him, Sam had pains in his stomach and thirst in his throat.

He stared at Dean until the surface of his eyes felt full of sand and Sam wasn’t sure when the last time he blinked was. He was afraid that if he blinked, that in that split second of darkness before his eyes opened again Dean would disappear. That he would be gone and left with no way to block out the noises in his head. The idea terrified him more than he knew was rational but he couldn’t not feel it.

Then Dean asked if he could sit up a little, his brothers hand on his shoulder and at his wrist helping him to sit forward and Sam closed his eyes. Dean couldn’t disappear if he was touching him could he. Sam couldn’t keep them closed though, the world shifted too much when he wasn’t looking and he didn’t want something to come and hurt Dean while he had his eyes closed.

Dean slid in behind him and Sam had to twist slightly on his side to make room for Dean’s thighs. He didn’t mind so much though, especially when Dean pulled him back against his chest. His brothers arms wrapping around him and Sam wrapped his hands around Dean’s where they rested on his abdomen.

Where they were connected, Sam’s back against his brothers chest, Sam could feel Dean’s heart beating evenly inside his brothers rib cage. His brother’s heart beat was a constant steady rhythm so different and alien to the surging erratic pulse of his own. It helped calm him and Sam sighed relaxing more into his brother’s touch.

The beat of it washed away the rest of the noise in his head and made him feel calm for the first time in what felt like forever. Even the breathing bleeding of the walls around him seemed to fade away until he was there in the small kitchenette safe and alone with his brother. Sam tightened his grip on Dean to make sure that his brother wasn’t going anywhere as he closed his eyes. Maybe with Dean there like this he wouldn’t have any dreams. “thanks Dean,” Sam smiled at the thought that just his brothers presence like this made him better. If he told Dean he would probably never hear the end of it. “I love you,” Sam whispered as he floated into sleep.

* * *

Dean sighed a little in relief when Sam seemed much more calm and relaxed already. He shifted his hold a little on the younger man's hands, holding his fingers to Sam's wrist to check his pulse. It might just his imagination but it seemed like the younger man's heart rate was slowing down a little. Becoming more steady and even.

God, he hoped it wasn't just his imagination.

His brother seemed so fragile right now and Dean was so afraid for him. He didn't know what he was going to do if Sam didn't make it through this. But he probably wouldn't live much longer past when his brother drew his last breath.

Dean pressed a soft kiss to the younger man's temple when Sam's head came back to rest against his shoulder.

"Welcome." Dean whispered, his heart constricting a little at Sam's words. "I love you too, Sammy."

Dean listened as the younger man's breathing evened out and Sam relaxed even more in his embrace. Soon soft snores followed. Even though Sam seemed to be resting peacefully now it was a long time before Dean started to relax as well. He sat there for a long time. Just listening to Sam breathing and watching the cool gray light from outside shift across the walls and floor of the room as the day passed.

Eventually pure exhaustion began to win despite Dean's determination to maintain his vigil over his brother and his eyes slowly drifted closed. His arms remained firmly wrapped around the younger man however, holding his brother protectively even in sleep. 


	3. Chapter 3

Sam didn’t dream any more. At least if he did it wasn’t the raving nightmares he’d woken from before. This time he felt warm and safe and protected. It made him feel like when he was little and Dean would let him curl up in bed with him so he could sleep. When his brother had comforted him and held him when he had nightmares or when he couldn’t sleep. Dean had always been there for him. He hadn’t slept in his brother’s arms for as long as Sam could remember. Certainly not since he’d had his growth spurt in high school. To be honest Sam missed the feeling.  


  
It scared him to think that Dean was the only person that could make him feel safe like that. He hadn’t felt that way with anyone else. Not Dad or Ruby or even when he’d been with Jess. He’d realized when he left for college that it was something that he wasn’t ever going to get again and it had been his own choice. But Sam would be lying if he ever said that he hadn’t missed it on some deep down level.

The days past and the demon blood slowly left his system. He wasn’t sure how many days it was before he even really was aware of the fact that he would curl up in Dean’s arms. Wrists bound together just in case, to sleep. Dean’s leg started to heal though. The wound still looked painful but it stopped weeping and Dean could stand now. He could walk some too, although Sam doubted he could run with it. He knew Dean limped when he thought Sam wasn’t looking. The supply of bottled water slowly dwindled. So did the energy bars. They were going to have to make a move soon. The only problem was to where.

During the day when the sun lit the window lined offices, Sam and Dean would explore the floor. They’d found a few more things to add to their dwindling supplies. But not much. They needed guns. And they needed a better supply of food. Sam was pretty sure he felt worse for lack of actual food. He was even starting to miss the greasy cheeseburgers that Dean sometimes described when he talked about missing real food. But most of all they needed to find somewhere safer than here to go. To find out what those things were. What had happened to the world.

“Hey Dean?” Sam asked between bites of granola bar that tasted like cardboard. “Do you think, that maybe we should try and make our way to Bobby’s?” Neither one of them had talked about the possibility that the rest of the world looked like Detroit. Barren waste lands devoid of people. Sam figured it was because neither of them were willing to face the fact that everyone else in the world could be dead or gone. Or turned into those things that had attacked Dean. Or the fact that it was Sam’s fault for saying yes. They hadn’t talked about that either, even though Sam had the distinct feeling that Dean knew that he had. That he’d rambled about it when the withdrawal had been at its worst.

* * *

When Sam spoke Dean started a little in surprise and quickly glanced away with a silent curse when he realized he'd been staring at his brother while he ate. Again. He'd been doing that a lot lately. Staring at his brother, and not just when Sam was eating. But pretty much every second that Sam wasn't looking at _him_ his eyes were glued on the younger man and he couldn't seem to tear them away. Ever since Sam had come through his latest withdrawal of demon blood and Dean realized that his brother was going to live.

For a while, Dean hadn't been sure. Dean had lost track of the days, one torturous day blending into the next where he held his brother in his arms while Sam screamed himself hoarse in pain. Or worse, when the younger man was so silent and still he wasn't even sure Sam was alive. Only the weak beat of the heart under his palm he laid on the younger man's chest, or the occasional soft puffs of air against his neck, proof that he hadn't lost his brother yet again.

It had been during those moments that Dean had prayed. Sometimes out loud. Sometimes just in his head. As he laid awake for hours on end, unable to sleep while he held his brother trying to keep the worst of Sam's fits at bay. Most often he prayed, begged, for Castiel to come help them. To come help Sam. But the angel never answered. Either the angel was 'out of range', or he just wasn't listening, or he just wasn't there. Dean wasn't sure which thought was worse. That Castiel was dead, or that the angel was simply ignoring him.

Either way, they were on their own. Dean did his best to get Sam to eat and drink when the younger man was lucid enough. He held Sam in his arms since somehow that seemed to ground his brother in reality more often than not. He only left Sam's side when absolutely necessary, and even then he was never gone for more than a few minutes at a time. He barely ate or slept himself, he was too worried about Sam.

But finally after what had to be more than a week of torture for them both, Sam's fever had finally broken and the pain seemed to pass. Sam was understandably weak as a newborn kitten, and Dean barely dared to hope that it was over. It wasn't until several days later, as Sam slept easily in his arms, as the younger man was awake and lucid more often, and that he seemed to be getting stronger that Dean took his first real breath of relief.

Two weeks later he was still staring at his brother like he was some kind of fucking miracle. Dean insisted that his brother take it easy, making him rest when he showed even the slightest hint of exhaustion. He was being a mother hen, and probably annoying the hell out of Sam, but the younger man took it well for the most part. They still slept together crammed on that couch in the lounge. Sure it was cramped, and there were other places they _could_ sleep, but neither one of them suggested other arrangements. They both knew how close it had been, and even though neither of them mentioned it, they were both still freaked out by it.

And it was why Dean took so long in answering his brother's question. They couldn't stay here forever. The food and water they'd found wasn't going to last much longer. Maybe another week if they stretched it, but that was it. He _knew_ staying here wasn't an option but... the thought of going out there, now, while Sam was still weak. Sure his brother was getting stronger every day, and Dean's leg was on the mend, but neither of them were in top form, and neither of them would be before the food ran out.

They hadn't seen any sign of those things that had attacked him that first night either, which only made Dean more wary. If they could observe them, see what kind of habits or patterns they had, then maybe he and Sam could at least have a better idea of what they were dealing with. But there was nothing. Those things had swarmed on him so damned fast the first time, they could easily do so again without warning the second they took one step outside these locked floors.

Even worse beyond the fact they hadn't seen any of those things, they hadn't seen a sign of any _people_ out there either. If the destruction they saw was just contained in this area, then wouldn't there at least be people trying to do something? Someone out there cleaning up the mess? Planes flying overhead? Something? But there was nothing. Not a damned thing.

Trying to get to Bobby's, was there even a point? Maybe not. Maybe it was just a fools errand that would end up getting them killed in the process, but the not knowing would probably drive him crazy too. If anyone could survive something like this it was Bobby, right?

Dean looked up at Sam and gave the younger man a slight nod.

"Yeah. Maybe in another few days. We can head out at sunrise. Try to get out of the city. Find some wheels. Go from there." Dean said, giving his brother a slight shrug.

It was a lame plan. They didn't know if the sun had any effect on the things or not, but at least it would be easier for him and Sam to see what was going on. Getting a car in the city was probably pointless too, since with all the rubble it would be impossible to drive it, plus the engine would probably just attract unwanted attention. They'd have to see if they could find one once they got out of the city, or at least, out of the worst of the destruction. They would also have to try to find more food and water, but frankly, that could wait till they got out of the city too as far as Dean was concerned. The farther they could get away from those things the better. 


End file.
